Remember Me
by Sheepishly101
Summary: The final and third instalment in "Tales of the Forgotten." And the Triwizard Tournament had arrived! Clara and John (12th Doctor) find themselves wound up in all the excitement of everything that is going on. But, darkness is looming; not only for the wizarding world. Too many memories are coming back at once, and Clara and John are slowly realising just how wrong this world is.
1. Something Awesome

***And I'm baaaack! So, Guatemala was fun. It was the rainy season, but it actually wasn't that bad. The first chapter is really happy, light, and fun. Also, of you want to, check out my poem " _Sometimes It Just Happens."_**

 ****Disclaimer: I'm going to get this out of the way right now, so that I don't have to repeat myself. I do not own JK Rowling's " _Harry Potter_ " or the BBC's " _Doctor Who_ "**

 ***** Now, read!**

* * *

 **Extra AN: OK so I've decided to post this one day early because today is Harry Potter's birthday, and the opening of "the Cursed Child." I bought the book last night at 12 AM and didn't sleep until I finished it–at 3 AM. Anywaaaaay, no spoilers for the new book, and sorry for the long AN but I'm really emotional right now 'cause Albus–nope, can't tell.**

* * *

Clara briefly studied the area around her. The house before her was obviously in shambles; the roof seemed to be slipping off, the door was red except for the fact that almost all the paint had worn off. The house itself was quite large, but it seemed to be bending in an unnatural-house way. Clara winced as she touched the doorbell, in fear of having that break off too.

As she waited, she noticed the amount of baggage at her feet. There were two suitcases, like the Muggle ones. One suitcase was blue and hard, almost like a renewed version of a Wizard trunk. The other one was a burgundy colour, but it wasn't hard. Rather stiff, yes, but she could poke an indent into it with enough force.

There was a fumbling sound from the other side of the door, and Clara inhaled sharply, bracing herself. When the door opened, she was greeted by a smiling Ginny.

Clara exhaled. "Well, hello," she managed.

Ginny squealed, and threw her arms around Clara. "Oh my God! I can't believe you're here!"

"Neither can I," Clara muttered.

Ginny invited her into the house, and Clara was instantly hit was the pungent aroma of chicken cooking. She smiled. The house itself, was well, _housey_. The floors creaked when Clara shifted her weight, the rugs seemed worn away terribly at the edges, the walls had paint peeling disastrously. All in all, Clara loved it.

"Wow," was all Clara could muster.

Ginny smiled. "It's not much, but it's home." She then frowned at Clara's luggage. "What's that?"

Clara quickly shook her head. "Sorry, it's just a suitcase is much easier to manage than a trunkー"

Ginny waved her hands. "OK, OK, I've got it. Muggle enthusiast." She lifted one up, and grunted. "Heavy."

Clara smiled. "Oh, um. Just pull of the top thing."

Ginny knit her eyes together. She pulled out the black handle. "Sorry, I didn't mean to break it!" She said quickly.

* * *

Clara laughed. "You didn't _break_ it! It's supposed to be like that! Now, angle the suitcase, and pull on the handle."

Ginny did so, and was able to get two feet before the wheels caught on the rug edge, and the suitcase fell out of Ginny's grasp.

Clara raised an eyebrow. "Best not here, in the house."

Ginny nodded. "Yeah. Um, I'll just levitate it."

Ginny moved the luggage to the sitting room, where she hollered, "MUM! CLARA'S HERE!"

There was the sound of marching, and there appeared Mrs. Weasley, who Clara had only met once before.

* * *

Mrs. Weasley looked much better than the last time Clara really saw her. That was in her first year, when Ginny had been trapped in the Chamberー No. She shouldn't think of that.

Mrs. Weasley cupped Clara's face tenderly, and smiled. "Clara! It's so good to finally see you properly! Last time," her face darkened, and her hands slipped from Clara's face, "last time didn't count."

Ginny rolled her eyes, and said, "Mum. Please, stop it."

"Sorry, sorry!" Mrs. Weasley took a glance at the suitcases. "I think you can take them to your room, Ginny." She looked back at Clara. "Clara, deary. You won't mind spending the nights in Ginny's room. I think Hermione shall stay there too."

Clara looked around. "Is Hermione here?"

Ginny shook her head. "I'm supposing that she'll be here soon though. It's around… 8:25 AM currently…"

Clara realized she hadn't know what time it was. She hoped that she wasn't interrupting on their morning. "I'm sorry for coming this early, Mrs. Weasley."

Mrs. Weasley fanned her hand about. "Dear, it's Molly. And don't worry about coming early. It's no problem, really. The boys are mostly likely asleep. Well, not Percy." She pressed her lips in a thin line after saying Percy's name. "Harry is supposed to come tomorrow, and my other sons later in the evening."

Ginny groaned. "Can we get moving, Mum?"

Mrs. Weasley, er, _Molly_ , smiled. "Yes, yes. I suppose it's been awhile since you've last seen each other!" She scampered off, muttering about her other sons surely being late.

Ginny lolled her head back. "I swear, mum is bent on embarrassing me."

Clara looked around the house and smiled. "Well, I dare say you're lucky to have a mum. She's great though."

"Oh, I didn't mean–"

"Come on," Clara said quickly. "I should get my stuff to your room."

Ginny smiled hesitantly. "Yeah. Here, I'll help." She flicked her wand, and the two suitcases levitated a couple feet off the ground. Ginny started heading toward the staircase before looking back, "Um, this'll be a bit of a workout. It's a long way up."

Clara nodded understanding. After Ginny had gotten a few steps up, Clara started up too. It actually wasn't that bad, though she guessed that this was way of Ginny going to the gym. She laughed silently to herself. Lately, Clara had seemed to be a bit infatuated with Muggles. Though, she could barely even remember the past weeks…

Stopping for a second, Clara pulled a letter out of her back pocket. She wasn't really sure how it got there in the first place. After starting to climb again, she read the letter, which was in Ginny's unmistakable handwriting.

 _Dear Clara,_

 _Hope you've had a good summer break so far! My brothers are being a nuisance–surprise, surprise. Fred and George charmed my hair a ghastly green! Mum sure did give them a scolding, though. Anyway, I asked Dad if you could come with us for the Quidditch World Cup, and… He said yes! I was actually surprised, because Harry's supposedly coming too. But Dad said that he'd pull some strings. Anyway, we're going to the Ireland vs. Bulgaria match! Mum attached some stuff for your dad like addresses and what not. But, I hope to see you soon!_

 _Ginny_

Clara looked down, and there was the part from Mrs. Weasley.

 _Dear Mr. Oswald,_

 _My husband and I would like to inform you that…_

Clara shook her head. She didn't really need to read that bit. What stumped her was: _How did I get here?_ But, Ginny was ahead of her, so Clara ran up the steps to catch up with her friend.

"Did you fall asleep?" Ginny joked, without looking back.

"Nah… Just admiring."

"What? The dust and cobwebs?"

Clara rolled her eyes, but they reached Ginny's room. Ginny sighed heavily, and let the suitcases fall on top of a bed.

"That one's yours," Ginny explained.

"Ah." Clara walked over. She was sleeping in the middle bed of three beds alongside one another. Ginny had the one closest to the window on the other side of the room. Which left Hermione's bed to be the one closest to the door.

There was a loud crash from downstairs somewhere. Clara raised an eyebrow. "I have a feeling you just don't want to be next to the noise."

Ginny bounced on her bed. "I live with two pranksters. If I'm close to the doors, I'll never get to sleep."

"You've basically left Hermione to fend for herself!"

Ginny scoffed. "Clara! It doesn't matter. She's going to end up sneaking out and visiting the boys."

"You make it sound like they're going to get up to something!" Clara accused.

Ginny put a hand on her heart. "Duh. Mischief." She flopped down on her bed, which probably caused her hair to form five million knots.

"I'm starting to regret the decision of coming here," Clara joked.

"Fine. Then leave."

Clara threw a pillow at Ginny, which landed on her stomach, for she was still lying down. "Ginny. I'm going to walk out of here in 3...2...1…"

Ginny got up, with a playful smirk. "Fine! I'll file a divorce!"

Clara smiled at her game. "God, you only think of yourself! I'm leaving to find a house where I can be myself!"

Ginny feigned a look of hurt. "Leave then! Go! The door is right there!"

"I think I will!" With that, Clara walked out of the bedroom door, and waited outside the door for a few seconds. She laughed quietly, before turning the doorknob. The door wouldn't budge.

"Oi! Ginny! Let me in!"

"No! I'm kicking you out!"

Clara hit on the door, just enough to emphasize her point, but not loud enough for anyone else to be wondering what the hell was going on.

"Go away!" Ginny shouted, but Clara could pick up a hint of suppressed laughter in her tone.

" _Little pig, little pig, let me in_!" Clara chanted.

"What?"

"Oh my God! It's a Muggle story about–"

Ginny unlocked the door. "Yeah, yeah. OK. I don't wanna hear about it."

"It's a lovely kids' story."

Ginny choked. "Kids' story? You've got to be kidding me! Dad won't let us read it because he read about the story in a Wizard book!"

Clara sighed. "Your dad, told you not to read a _Muggle_ book, because he saw a description of it in a _Wizard_ book?"

"Yeah, now that I think about it…"

Clara flopped on her own bed. "So… What did your dad think it was about?"

"A fun house about huffing and puffing and blowing," Ginny said carefully.

Clara laughed so hard, she thought her lungs would burst, "Oh my Merlin! That's absolutely hilarious!"

"What?"

"The story is about a werewolf who goes around, blowing pigs' houses down, then eating the pigs!"

"Wow," was all Ginny could say. "That _is_ hilarious." And the pair broke into ruckus laughter.

There was a grunting sound from the door. Clara turned around to see Ron Weasley looking very disheveled and tired.

Clara laughed again. "Sweet Lord, your hair!"

Ron unconsciously touched his hair. "What?"

Clara pointed at his nearly shoulder length hair. "It's so long! You sort of look like Ginny now!"

"Oi!" were the cries of both of her friends.

"Are you saying that I look like a ginger toad?" Ginny snapped.

"Oi!" was Ron's answer again.

Clara was laughing her bloody arse off. "So, what'd you need?"

Ron was still recovering over the previous seconds. "Oh, um. Did we have breakfast it?"

Ginny rolled her eyes and sighed. "I ate like an hour ago. Not sure 'bout Clara though."

"Oh, um… I ate before I left," Clara said quickly. It wasn't really a lie because Clara couldn't even remember the past few days.

Ginny grinned. "What are we to do about Ron's hair though…" she had an evil glint in her eyes.

Ron fidgeted. "Ginny…" he warned.

Her friend paid no heed. She pulled her brother into the room, and sat him on Hermione's bed, before locking the door.

"Ginny!" Ron cried. Clara was laughing from her bed.

Ginny pulled her wand out. "I think he needs a haircut," she reasoned.

"I think so too," Clara replied.

"Ginny!" Ron cried out again, while furiously clutching his hair. "Remember when you put on mum's makeup on my face? I do not need a repeat!"

Clara laughed. "You did _what_?"

Ginny crossed her arms. "I was _eight_." She turned back to her brother. "And you're a twat for telling that story." She poked Ron with each word of her final sentence.

Ron breathed in heavily. "I swear to Merlin, you girls are insane."

"So's your hair," Clara pointed out.

"Hey!"

Clara twirled her own hair between her fingers. She smiled. "If Ginny or I do it, will you?"

Ron's mouth gaped open. "I'll do it if I get to cut Ginny's hair!"

"Ron!" Ginny exclaimed, slapping him on the arm. "Clara!"

Clara shrugged. "I think Ginny would look lovely bald."

Ginny grunted. "Who's side are you on?"

"Mine."

Ginny pointed her wand at Clara. "I'll cut your hair, if you even try as to touch my great, red, hair."

Clara crossed her arms defiantly. "Fine. Then I'll do it myself." she smiled. "I even managed a ' _Little Red Hen_ ' quote!"

Clara stuck her hand into the outside pocket of her burgundy suitcase, and pulled out a pair of scissors. _Why were those there?_

"What are those?" Ron asked hesitantly.

"They're like little knives," Clara explained.

"What?" Ron's eyes bulged.

"I think this has gone too far," Ginny said, but she was holding Ron down. "Can we use the knifey things on Ron?"

Clara stroked the edges of the scissors playfully. She winced, as that was something that was so dangerous, so she stopped. "I'll use it on Ginny first."

"No!"

"Yes!"

Clara laughed, and pulled the blue elastic from her wrist, which caused her friends' eyes to bulge. Clara snickered, the tied her hair into a ponytail carefully. Then, she pulled her hair to her chest, and cut with the scissors.

There were gasps from her friends. "Clara!"

But, Clara went on, keeping the scissors right above where she tied the elastic. The sound of her hair being cut was aggravating, but Clara did it anyway. Finally, she did one final cut and the bundle of hair fell into her hand.

Clara looked up, to see Ginny clamping her mouth shut. Ron was staring at her hair in Clara's hand.

"Merlin," Ginny gasped.

"What?" Clara asked, and she pulled out a tiny mirror, which was also in her suitcase pocket. Her hair was only a few inches shorter, so that it grazed just above her shoulder. It didn't look bad, but she might have to fix some bits with her wand.

"Wow. 11-year-old you would've never pulled out tiny knives and cut her hair," Ginny said.

Clara shrugged. "Well, I wanted to cut it anyway. So, who's next?"

"Not me."

"Hell no."

Just then, there was a knock at the door, and Ginny opened it to let Hermione Granger into the room.

Hermione eyes the room, and raised an eyebrow. "Do I want to know?"

"You really don't," Clara said, while tucking her hair away.

Hermione stared at Clara's new haircut. "When did you get your hair done?"

"Um… Like five seconds ago…"

Hermione shooed Ron off her bed, and plopped her own suitcase onto her bed. "I'm not going to even ask."

Ron walked to the door. "Ok...well, nice seeing you here, Hermione. I'll go write a letter to Harry…" Clara was barely even able to pick up the "blimey" which escaped Ron's mouth as he walked off.

"Soooo…"

Hermione sighed. "How awful is Ron's hair?"

Clara and Ginny laughed.

 **[¡Feliz cumpleaños, Harry!]**


	2. Little Amy

*** Shorter chapter than I wanted, but I like it. Also, be aware, newcomers, that I have sh*t eyesight and can barely see what the hell I'm typing... If there are any spelling mistakes, just know that I actually love grammar, and that I'm just sorry... (cries) OK? OK? Apologies, I'm an emotional rollercoaster, because I just caught up on the new season of " _Suits_." MIIIIIIIKE! NOOOOOO!**

* * *

John lurched up from his bed, feeling sore all over. John's bed consisted of a hard mattress and an itchy, green, blanket. Sleep was one of those things that John ignored completely. Why close your eyes and dream of flying when he could _actually_ do that in real life? It was stupid, John had always thought.

The little pills John had been forced to take as a child lay tucked under a pile of papers in his bedside drawers. Those pills were for some form of severe insomnia, which John had denied having since the age of 4. And yet, all that changed when he arrived at Hogwarts and decided to experiment as to what would occur. The result? Well, let's just say that he _did_ have severe insomnia, and whenever he did sleep, he had weird dreams that haunted him throughout the day.

And, they weren't normal, human, dreams. No. These were rollercoaster rides of adventure, thrill, companionship, and loss. John experienced all the pain he had seen the thirteen men go through…

A flitting thought flew through John's head. There had been this one time, where John had thought of a moment when he told… the other Scottish one… With the red hair, and long legs, and temper that definitely proved her nationality. Something about… Remembering…

John shook his head, as he was getting lost in his thoughts again. As John had just been lying on the bed, he rolled off, didn't bother to make his bed, as his mum would surely do that for him…

Oh, his mum. That was one lie everyone believed, including John. It was one of the things he learned, after his time in Hogwarts; he was totally and utterly alone. Raised in an orphanage, ran away… All those things he said about his father being an herbalist… Just words to keep John in a, well, _mostly_ , sane state of mind.

John looked around the room. Heaving a sigh, he walked down the staircase, which creaked horribly, to the kitchen.

The kitchen consisted of a stove. But, it wasn't like a Muggle stove, or a Wizard stove… OK, he lied a bit. John had seen these forms of stoves in poor countries… They were hollow concrete prisms, shoved against a wall, with a metal sheet that went on top. The hollow bit was where you kept the wood burning.

Today wasn't a day for coffee, which John had used to hate, but found that it's bitter qualities tasted magnificent with a few (or more, really) spoons of sugar.

So, John found himself in an empty house, by himself, with only the books and his thoughts to occupy him. It was odd, as John had always restricted himself from participating in the activities of his friends at Hogwarts. They seemed, stupid, idiotic, illogical. However, John would do nearly anything just so that he could have a friend to talk to. Preferably Clara, but Ginger would do.

Again, his thoughts wandered off to the Scottish woman. It had taken John a while, but he had finally realized that he was attracted, not romantically, of course, but just _intrigued_ by Ginny Weasley because of how much she reminded him of... Well, _her_.

Ginger had a fierce nature, and although underestimated, she could hex your, um, well… She could do some serious bodily harm, which included the painful removal of part of the male anatomy.

But, along with that, she was one of the most caring people John knew. And there was that little seed of guilt in John's stomach, because he had often ignored her, finding Clara's company more comforting.

That wasn't right either. Because, although he cared for Clara immensely, he felt attached to the other Scottish redhead. Something told John that… oh, what was her name?

 _Three people tumbled out of the Blue Box. One, who John instantly recognized being as… River? Yes. But the others, the redhead, and a boy were also there._

 _The "Chin Man" said cheerfully, "These are my top operatives," he indicated toward the three. "The Legs, The Nose, and_ _Mrs. Robinson."_

John trembled as he sat down. Those little, urm, _flashbacks_ always seemed to be happening now… But, it didn't take a genius to find out who "The Legs" was. He smiled as he realized that was as close a name he was going to get.

But, yes. The Legs was the first. John knew that. She was the first, and then came the other two: The Nose, and River.

John sat up, and walked to the window. He looked out and sae the fields of tall grass that went up to almost you hips… You could hear the insects buzzing and chirping. It was full of life. John cocked his head as he caught a flash of something. There… there was a flash of black… and red?

John concentrated, and saw a little girl running, obviously smiling, just 25 feet away from John's house, which was really just a shack in a grass field. The girl, was wearing a black coat, or was it navy blue? John wasn't sure. Though, he did wonder why a girl was wearing a coat when it was about... 25 degrees celcius out? But, he could see bright, flaming, red hair, blowing in the wind from under the crimson cap. Was it a cap? The girl was running, and running, and John thought he could hear her laughter all the way from where he was standing.

"Amelia," John croaked, his voice hoarse. The girl stopped running, and seemed to vanish into thin air in a blink of an eye. It dawned upon John, that this was the first time John had spoken ever since stepping off the blasted Hogwarts Express. He hadn't uttered a word in weeks. But then again, time was fuzzy, and wibbly, and confusing as all hell, because it seemed like just yesterday, John had once again entered his shack.

John said again, "Amelia!" There was an urgency in his voice, because he remembered now. She was his friend… And she had died? Yes… That was it. But, at that moment, John wanted nothing more to disappear like his hallucination of his friend did. There was a pricking feeling in his eye, and tightening in his chest, the constriction of his breathing… And, and, he was _crying_. When was the last time John had cried? What… Three years? More? He didn't know. All he did know though, was that he desperately wanted his friend, _Amelia_ , back, because she always knew what to do. And, she was the closest friend he ever had. No matter how much he cared for Ginger, no matter how much she reminded him of _Amelia_ , there was that empty void space of wanting his real friend back. And, he realized that was something Clara wasn't able to offer.

All he wanted was some companionship, in this lonely, lonely place. He had literally no one. Which was why, when John got the letter saying that he got a ticket for the Ireland vs. Bulgaria Quidditch game, he had been so scared. Because, who sent it?


	3. Alpha Lyra

***I recently have been having _Star Trek_ marathons, which is actualy a really bad idea because I've been watching every single _Star Trek_ series, and let me just say, there are _a lot_. I've also been living off of brownie and cookie dough ice cream, which until I came to Canada, didn't know existed. **

* * *

It was almost 3 pm the next day, and Clara, Ginny, and Hermione were chatting away in Ginny's room. Hermione was obviously excited for Harry's arrival, but the more she kept talking about it, the more uncomfortable Clara and Ginny got.

It was no secret that Ginny Weasley had a crush on Harry. And while it decreased throughout the years, Ginny still blushed a bit when she saw him, especially when he made any sort of contact with her.

The problem was, Clara felt extraordinarily guilty for also liking the boy. However, her crush was more… Friendly… That didn't make sense. It was quite confusing, because Clara just liked being around him, having fun, causing mischief, saving the school… It wasn't a case where she wanted to hold hands or go out, or hug, or look deeply in one another's eyes. Just… having _fun_.

Hermione waved her hand in front of Clara's face. "Clara? You awake, there?"

"Um, yeah," Clara said, embarrassed. "Sorry…"

Ginny bounced slightly on her bed. "She's always like that. Just, gets lost in thought. I think it's a _boy_."

If it were any other boy that weren't Harry, Clara would've admitted it, and gone on with her life. She definitely would not have blushed as profusely as she did.

While clapping her hands excitedly, Ginny squealed, "Oh my Merlin! Look at how red her face is!"

Hermione frowned. "Clara… Don't you think you're a bit, um, young?"

Clara narrowed her eyes, and raised an eyebrow. "They're just feelings. Plus, it's not like we're snogging in a broom closet." Clara winced. "Ew. I don't know _what_ I just said…"

Ginny flopped down on her bed. "That you want to snog him of course!"

Clara raised her hands in the air. "What? No! I didn't say that! You misunderstood me–"

"Don't worry, Clara. You're secret is safe with us," Ginny said.

"Knowing you, all of Britain will know in five minutes."

Ginny lurched up. "Wait. What if it's not a boy?"

Hermione almost choked, and she looked confused. "What?"

"I mean, it would make sense. Clara's like that."

Clara sighed. "Honestly, I don't know. Both, maybe?"

Ginny nodded. "OK, so we've figured out that she likes a boy, but that she would go for either?"

Clara nodded sarcastically. "Oh, yes, Ginny. I'll go for anyone. Maybe, maybe it's _you_." She threw the pillow she was sitting on to her friend's face.

"Are we going to have a repeat of yesterday?" Ginny asked.

"Hermione can be the divorce lawyer in this case," Clara said, grinning.

"No. I'm staying out of this. When this is done, we're all going to end up with two-inch length hair. How did you even get scissors, anyway? They're not something Wizarding shops sell."

Clara shrugged. "Just found them."

There was some thundering from downstairs, and there was yelling. Clara heard Fred and George's voice saying something, Mrs. Weasley, and Mr. Weasley.

Ginny closed her eyes, slumped over, and breathed, "That's probably them," she groaned.

The three girls ran down the stairs, through the kitchen, and into the foyer. Clara leaned against the kitchen doorway, examining the situation.

Mr. Weasley looked extremely flustered and anxious, and Clara couldn't blame him. Mrs. Weasley was scolding him to the ground.

"Erm, Fred and George were just…" Mr. Weasley faltered. "Don't worry, I've had my words with them–"

Hermione cleared her throat. "Ron, why don't you show Harry where he's sleeping?"

Ron, who was standing beside Harry, groaned. "Hermione! He already knows where my room is–"

Hermione huffed. "Fine, we'll all go."

Ron nodded slowly, seeming to understand that Hermione just didn't want to be here when the room exploded. "Oh, um, yeah…"

George (or was it Fred?) added, "We should go too–"

Mrs. Weasley pointed her finger directly at Fred and George. " _You two will stay where you are!"_

Clara quietly slipped into the kitchen, walking backward, and signalled with her hand that they should get out. She edged her way to the staircase, before running up them as quietly as bloody humanly possible.

Ginny caught up with her, and Clara slowed down so that they could walk together up the steps. Behind her, Harry asked, "What are Weasley Wizard Wheezes?"

Ginny snorted, and Ron laughed. Clara had a faint idea as to what they were, for she had spent a day at the Weasley house, but she wasn't 100% sure…

Ron explained about them being knick-knacks Fred and George hand created. Tools for pranking, joking, and generally causing mayhem. Clara could practically _hear_ Hermione's glare.

"–They were making all of these things in their room, with plans to sell them at Hogwarts. Mum went bloody ballistic when she found the order forms. She ripped them up and burned them. She was already angry because they got much fewer OWL's then she expected."

Ginny, who kept her eyes in front of her, added, "Yeah, then they fought because Mum wanted them to go work in the Ministry, and they wanted to make a joke shop."

Clara jumped, as she was almost hit by a door opening.

" _Percy!"_ Ginny hissed.

Clara muttered, "It's fine." But she got the feeling she wasn't heard.

Percy Weasley looked annoyed. "Hello, Harry," he said, without even looking in Harry's direction.

"Erm, hi?" Harry said.

Percy kept his cold stare at a point right above Clara's head. Of course, Clara being so short, nobody looked at her, unless they looked down. And people were too lazy to do that.

"Excuse me, but I was hoping that you could keep your thundering noises to a minimum of zero?" Percy said coldly. "I'm working on some tasks for the Ministry, and it's ever so difficult with you," he paused, his eyes skimming over the lot, " _five_ , talking and practically marching up the stairs."

"What are you working on?" Harry asked politely.

Clara looked at the floor, and groaned inwardly. Harry's politeness was going to get Clara killed from boredom. She didn't want to hear another one of Percy's storied about mandating the reproduction of flobberworms. A) ew. B) what the hell? C) who said that Clara cared?

Percy straightened himself. "I've been working on a report for the _Department of International Magical Cooperation_ , trying to standardize cauldron thickness. Some are much too thin; causing leaks and whatnot."

Clara looked down at the floor, and smiled. Great job, he had.

Ron must've been thinking the same. "Wow. That'll change the world, that report will. Front page for the _Daily Prophet_ , right there."

Clara bit her lip before she said something she would regret. It was almost impulsive to insult Percy's idiocies.

"You sneer, Ron, but when your cauldron leak in Potion's class–"

Ron waved him off, saying, "Yeah, yeah." Ron took the lead this time, and they kept climbing the staircase. Echos of the argument downstairs made their way to Clara's ears.

Sadly, Ron's room was at the top of the staircase, and that fact put major strain of Clara's legs. There was the other thing that Rn's room was covered in bright orange Chudley Cannons posters that blinded her.

Clara had never been to Ron's room, which she was thankful of, because of the magical posters which had Cannon members spinning on their brooms.

Ginny whispered into Clara's ear, "It makes me want to throw up, too."

"–Have you heard from–" Ron began, then faltered when he looked at his sister. Of course, Ron was talking about Sirius Black. Though, he needn't worry too much, for Ginny had forced the information out of Clara. No one else knew that Ginny knew, though.

"It sounds like they've stopped arguing. How about we go down and help your mom with dinner?" Hermione asked, looking at Ginny.

They made the descent downstairs, where they helped out with Mrs. Weasley a bit, and prepped the table for outside. Mrs. Weasley had said that they wouldn't be able to sit 12 people at the dinner table in the house.

Bill and Charlie, who had arrived the previous night meer minutes within each other, were basically having two chairs wrestle each other mid-air. Their wand danced, causing the chairs to thrash about.

Clara began to laugh along with Ginny.

Their fun was ruined when Percy bellowed from his window, " _Would you keep it down?_ "

* * *

At around 6:45, everyone was seated, and they began to eat. Percy was droning on about his work. Clara and Ginny were chatting about school. Basically, everyone who was still in Hogwarts stayed seated next to each other to keep the awkwardness down.

Harry cleared his throat. "So, uh, how has your guys' summer been so far?"

Hermione didn't have much to say, Ginny spoke of her twin brothers, Ron said he couldn't wait for the World Cup, the twins spoke so fast Clara could barely understand them, and Clara just answered that it felt like a blur.

Ron started to laugh while he was chewing on his chicken leg. "Oh, Harry. Something hilarious happened yesterday. It was right before 'Mione came, and Ginny and Clara–"

Ginny looked like she was going to explode. "No, Ron! Shut up!"

Ron continued laughing. "Anyway, they were playing with these scissor things– ow, Ginny!"

Ginny had obviously kicked him, and said, "Shut up! And it was only Clara with the scissors!"

Harry looked surprised. "What?"

Hermione glared angrily. "Basically, they were fooling around and it ended with Clara cutting her hair."

"Oh."

"–As you know, we have another large event to organize after the World Cup," Percy's voice carried out to where Clara was sitting. Clara looked up, to see Percy glaring in their direction.

Mr. Weasley raised an eyebrow, and continued eating. Percy huffed.

"Father, you know what I'm talking about. The top _secret_ one."

Ron grumbled, "He's been trying to get us to ask him about this secret thing. I bet it's a Cauldron exhibition."

Clara laughed, and pointed at Ron with her fork. "That would be Professor's Snape's favourite convention. I can see him waiting in line for the cauldron regulator's autograph."

Everybody chuckled quietly. Clara looked back up to see Percy burning a hole through her head with his gaze.

It was starting to darken out, but the temperature stayed the same. It was quite calming, being able to hear the crickets and other insects chirping in the distance. The glow of orange at the horizon was thinning with every minute. However, even the darkness couldn't remove the evident joy from the Weasley family. So much laughing, family bickering and more.

Mrs. Weasley had lit the candles on the table half an hour ago, and them being magical ensured that there was enough light. Mrs. Wealsey cheerfully brought out some strawberry ice cream, which Clara accepted with giddiness. Ice cream was a heavenly blessing from the gods.

Clara silently ate her ice cream, as she looked out at the horizon again. There was no more orange glow, but more of a pale yellow cloud. In the far east, it was a dark navy blue, progressing to become lighter and lighter as the sky arched into the west.

Stars lit up the darker bits of the sky. Clara briefly wondered if the Muggle satellites passed above the Magical world. What did they see? Fields of nothingness? Forests? There had to be some sort of tricks as to why Muggles didn't try to develop what they thought was unused land.

As Clara examined the sky, one star in particular caught her eye.

Ginny poked Clara in the shoulder. "Why are you staring off into space? Thinking about that boy again?" Clara cringed as her friend raised her voice at the last bit. No doubt the whole table heard her.

The funny thing was, she didn't really care. Her eyes were fixed onto the star. She smiled. "You know," Clara pointed to the star in question, "that star, _Vega,_ is the second brightest star in the northern celestial hemisphere," she paused. "It was the first star, besides the sun, to be photographed and the first to have its spectrum recorded." Another pause. "It's expected to 'live' for only 1 billion years, only a tenth of the Sun's life 'expectancy', so to speak."

Clara met Ginny's eyes again, and Ginny looked astounded, but then her friend laughed.

"Great. So, um, how much time have you been spending with John? Also what the _hell_ is the _northern celestial hemisphere_?"

Clara frowned. "Um, basically the stars we can see from the northern hemisphere... Also, I do not spend a lot of time with John. I just thought that Vega was pretty. Also, it wa sthe first star I saw up close."

"What, like through a telescope?" Hermione asked, Clara turned around so that she could see her face.

Clara shook her head. "No, not really. Just, up close."

Ginny sighed. "OK, we're done with all the star-talk. I'm bored. Come on, Clara. Let's go to my room." She turned to her family. "Night guys."

Everyone bid her a 'good night' as well, and Clara followed Ginny to the house, thinking about how maybe she _was_ thinking a little bit about a boy, not Harry though. The one that showed her that star _up close_.


	4. To The World Cup

***My arm hurts like hell 'cause I've been typing for waaaaaaay too long. Anyway, sorry for the late chapter.**

* * *

The stars shone brightly from where John was sitting–outside his "house." It was an eery feeling, looking at the sky, and sometimes John wanted nothing more than to fly and look at a star up close. How wonderful would that be?

John was good at stars too. He knew the name of every star in the night sky. No. Stars didn't have 'names' they had _titles._

John glanced at his old, leather watch. The time read, 4:32 AM. John should really get going so that he could make it to the portkey by 6 AM. The letter he had received earlier with the tickets also left directions as to how to get to the portkey. Basically, it would involve a lot of walking, John didn't mind though. Walking was OK, but John could already tell that he was going to get bored and end up running half the thing.

Looking back at the sky one last time, he grabbed his leather satchel and went off. He headed westward, promising himself that once he didn't see his house anymore from the distance, he would begin to run. John cursed himself though, because he lived on a flat, grass field. After a while though, the house could not be seen anymore, so John smiled to himself.

He took off, as fast as he could. The slight wind blew his coat back, making it flap. The letter had told him to wear Muggle attire, which wasn't that much of a problem for John because John detested robes. So, today he wore a black coat, which despite how fashionable it might've sounded, was the exact opposite. The coat was itchy, so John was forced to wear a black sweater and a white tee underneath it. His decision would probably come to bite him later, because Britain could get _hot_ in the summer. Not super hot, but around 20 degrees celsius.

Anyway, John got a certain thrill when he ran. It was something he really didn't get to do in Hogwarts unless he was about to die or be horribly injured. But, running was something John was excellent at– he was already pretty tall, it was something he like to do, and he was just good at it. They say you need practice to be talented in an area, but that was never something John had worried about when it came to running.

Another thing, John was able to run faster and further than the average 13-year-old male. First, he didn't suffer from the problem of running out of breath, or the dizziness after running for a while, or the soreness of his legs. He could run when it was 0 degrees out with ease with just a light jacket. Or, he could run in 30 without breaking a sweat.

John wasn't sure when, but eventually he slowed to a steady, fast-walking pace. He checked his watch after staring into the distance a bit, 5:26. He squinted behind him, trying to catch the sun, which had still not come out yet. That was the problem with Britain–mornings were gloomy and sunless; clouds usually ended up covering the sky before the sun came up.

Another fifteen minutes of silent walking and a few sprints inserted here and there, lead to John arriving at the portkey at 5:47. John glanced around a bit, making sure that there weren't some Muggle passersby. The portkey itself was a shoe. John had been informed that the portkeys had been placed in key, strategic areas all around Britain, and they were mostly articles of clothing that Muggles would not want to pick up. So, it made sense to have a mangy, torn-apart, dusty, old man's shoe be the choice. Who would want to touch such an atrocious thing?

Now, John was not an expert on shoes. All he could say was that they looked like everyday shows that were neither fancy or crude. Well, they could've been fancy once and all the wear and tear and made them crude– John was losing himself again. So, with one last check that he had everything, John placed a tentative hand on the portkey–

"Oi, there!" A male's voice shrieked. "And jus' what d'ya think yer doin'?"

John turned around to face a man with round eyes that were glaring at him as he walked over. The man, who sported blue jeans and looked _severely_ uncomfortable was waving his fists in the air angrily.

"You can't jus' grab the portkey and go, son! Didn't anybody tell ya yer supposed to wait 'til 6? There's others who need to use this portkey too!" The man growled.

John merely crossed his arms defiantly. With all honestly, it was quite an embarrassing situation. He just wanted to get to the place!

"Don't cross yer arms, boy!" The man growled again.

John quickly put his hands at his sides, and put them in his coat pocket.

"Where's ya mum or dad? Ya leavin' without 'em?"

John was losing his patience. He pulled his arms out of his pocket and crossed his arms again–

"What'd I say about crossing yer arms?"

John narrowed his eyes. "I don't see how me crossing my arms affects you in any way."

The man threw his hands up again. "Don't get smart or testy with me, boy. I'm an adult, show me some respect, and _don't cross yer arms_!

John put his hands up in surrender. "Fine, fine. As to my parents, I got none."

The news did not soften the look on the other man's face. "Very well," he said gruffly. "Then who's taking care of ya?"

"I am."

"Yer jus' a kid. Who's your guardian? Ya, know person who takes care–"

"I know what a guardian is, I'm not stupid–"

"–boy!–"

"–But the person who takes care of me, that's easy. Clara, she's my carer."

The man peered at him for a second, and cocked his head. "Yeah, well where's this _carer_?"

John shrugged, and on instinct crossed his arms again. Thankfully, the man didn't notice. "I supposed that she's with her friends right now. Doing young, cool, hip stuff, whatever that means."

The man raised an eyebrow. "Son, when I said 'carer' I didn't mean your girlfriend. And as to 'young, cool, his stuff' I don't _want_ to know."

They stood in silence for a few more minutes until the man coughed into a red handkerchief he pulled out from the back pocket of his jeans.

"Er, I don't think there's gonna be anybody else a comin.' We'd better, uh, get on our way."

John nodded, and hesitantly put his hand on the dirty shoe.

Could John just say that the experience of using a portkey was one he never wanted to do again? His insides felt like they were being ripped apart, his eyesight was blurred and he felt dizzy. The world was a colour show of greens, blues, grays and yellows being mixed into something that faintly reminded John of Van Gogh.

There was a punching sensation in John's gut, and he felt himself being practically hurled at the ground below him. The grass was coming closer, and closer, and closer… John had to get upright–

 _WHAM!_ John hit the ground forcefully and he muttered an "ow," before looking up at the man whom he had travelled with. The man gave a slight head jerk, before walking off toward the direction of a man in a tweed jacket.

John lay completely motionless for a few seconds, not remembering how to move. A voice above him said, "Sir, uh, sir could you please get up?"

John shook his head and came face-to-face with a woman in a pantsuit with a clipboard in hand. She had a quill tucked behind her ear, and her face was thin and pale. Her eyes were a lifeless green that had specks of amber around the pupil. Her lips were set in firm, thin line. Her hair, which was in a tight bun caused her whole face to be accentuated, though albeit a little scary.

The woman said, "OK, could you please state your name for me?"

"Smith, John Smith," he said.

The woman frowned. "Do you know where you are?"

John also frowned. "Not particularly, no."

If it were possible, her lips tightened into a thinner line. "Are you a wizard, sir?"

John raised an eyebrow. "I'm not a Muggle, I assure you."

She seemed to relax a bit. "Very well. Sorry, just 'Smith' isn't a name you hear often in the Wizarding World, and you were by yourself–"

"I get it, I get it," John said gruffly. He was, quite frankly, losing his patience.

"Er, yes. It might take a while just to identify who you are…" She flipped through the pages clipped to her clipboard and skimmed with her finger a page.

She asked, "John Smith from Livingston?"

"No."

"Er, John Smith from Blackpool?"

"No."

"Um… John Smith from London?"

"No, and for a name that isn't common in the Wizarding World, it's sure coming up a lot."

She reddened a bit. "Sorry. It's not only Britain though. The whole world is coming, and there are some witches and wizards of Muggle descent who share the same surname and forname as you."

John sighed. "Then, what is going to make this identification process faster?"

She tapped on her clipboard. "Could you tell me where you are currently studying or working?"

John coughed before saying, "Currently about to enter into my fourth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

She looked at him for a brief second before saying, "You look older than a 14-year-old. You're taller than I!"

John snorted. "I'm not fourteen. I'm thirteen, just tall and intelligent enough to be moved up a grade."

"Ah." She started using her fingers to skim the page on her clipboard again. "Are you being accompanied by your guardian or guardians?"

"No."

She looked up from her clipboard. "No parents or grandparents, or a _nanny_. Is that what they call governesses now?"

"No," John grunted. "I'm not two years old. _I don't have a nanny_."

"OK. Fine, can I see your ticket, please?"

John frowned and pulled his satchel in front of him. He began to rummage into the bag until he found the envelope which contained his ticket. He handed it over to her.

She flipped the ticket over several times before looking up and saying. "OK. I've got you." She scribbled something onto a piece of paper. She pointed into the direction of what seemed to be a continuation of the moor they were currently in. "Head that way for about a half a mile. And you'll come across a cottage. Stop there, Okay?"

John nodded, and walked in the direction she had proposed, but also following the people who were also walking that way too. He figured they knew the way better.

At the cottage, he could see hundreds upon hundreds of colorful tents on hills. The fig made their colours less noticeable, but he could tell that there were a lot of people here.

John waited in line and he sighed with relief when he was finally called up.

"Um, John Smith," John fumbled with his envelope. "Sorry, realize it's a common name. Here's my ID for the occasion."

The man took the papers from John's hand and grumbled. "M'kay… One tent, one person… That'll be £55.63."

John had thankfully received the Muggle currency he needed as well, and he could handle working with the paper money, but when it came to getting the change… Well, John didn't know how a 1 pence piece looked like, or a 50 pence piece looked like either. He gave up, and handed 5 pounds and waited for his change.

The man in the cottage waved farewell, and gave him his tent address along with a map.

John walked to where his tent was, which lay on the ground, not put up. Heaving a sigh, John got to work. It took a while, but he was finally able to get his tent up. John went inside to be hit with the horrible scent of chamomile tea. John absolutely hated chamomile tea. The tent itself was impressive… Well, it was bigger on the inside with a kitchen, a bathroom, and a bed. That was nothing, though. Because this was absolutely nothing compared to John's–

"Damn," John muttered to himself. He was going to need to get water from the Muggle tap on the other side of the field. He shook his head, and collected two dusty canteens from the kitchen, completely forgetting about his train of thought. And, the one, strange word that entered John's mind for just a second. _TARDIS._


	5. Bulgaria vs Ireland

*** So, it's like 30c where I am cuurently, but the humidity makes it feel like 40... It was really difficult to type, 'cause the room was so hot... Anyway, enjoy Chapter 5!**

* * *

Clara followed her friends through the maze of tents. Ginny had was not able to come, for she had been put to work as well my Mr. Weasley. Albeit, Clara's surroundings were all quite a sight, as there were many young witches and wizards trotting about, causing general child mischief. It was still morning, and Clara assumed that most of the children's parents were still in bed. After all, two girls were flying on broomsticks at the risk of Muggles seeing them.

Their objective was simple: get to the other side of the field and collect water from the Muggle tap. Clara was following Hermione, who was handling the map. Along the way, they passed many different people places. There were these three American girls who sat beneath the American flag (Americans have always been proud of their nationality. Why they were waving an American flag at a Bulgaria vs. Ireland match, Clara had no idea.) and a banner that waved ' _Salem Witches' Institute.'_ This confused Clara for a bit, as she had not realized that there was an all female magic school. Had she known, she might've gone to the US to study instead.

Ron, who was walking beside Clara, was staring funnily at the people around him. Obviously unaccustomed to the variety cultures and languages, Ron's head was spinning.

There were two girls who seemed very confused by what was going on. They had a small Belgian flag tied to a pole outside their tent, and they were speaking in rapid-fire French.

" _Je ne peux pas lire le carte!_ " One of the girls sighed. " _Il est en anglais!_ "

Now, Clara was not fluent in French. But, there was something just clicked in her head and made Clara understand the _general_ idea of what they were saying. Something about not understanding the map. They were in English, after all.

Being the kind, considerate, respectable person she was, she broke from her friends and went to aid the two girls.

" _Bonjour,"_ Clara said hesitantly. " _Avez-vous besoin d'aide?_ "

" _Ça serait génial_ ," one of them answered.

Clara, luckily, was able to steer the two girls into the right direction, with only some minor complications. Such as the fact that Clara really didn't know what 'reconnaissante' meant, but she was able to get the job done in a couple of minutes.

Clara returned to her friends, who were only waiting for her a few feet away. Hermione gave her an odd glance.

"I didn't know you spoke French."

" _Un peu_ ," Clara said, using her fingers to emphasize her point.

Ron seemed very interested in learning French, for he put it, "I reckon French girls are the best girls," which earned him a glare and punch from Hermione.

Clara rolled her eyes. "The girls weren't French. They were Belgian. Didn't you see the flag?"

Ron scratched his head. "It looked like Germany's flag."

Hermione snorted, and Ron blushed.

"Still useful to know the language," Ron muttered.

"Ron, you struggle with the simple basics of English grammar. What makes you think that you'll be able to grasp the structure, form, concept, etymology, of the French language?" Hermione snapped.

That was when Clara noticed something. Hermione's tone of voice seemed bitter, and screamed jealousy. The way she acted around the redhead male… Clara wondered…

"Woah," Harry breathed.

Clara was forced to look up and see rows of green tents. They were covered in glitter, shamrocks, Irish flags, and generally anything bright green.

Seamus Finnigan yelled from behind Clara. She wasn't quite familiar with the boy, except that he had a heavy Irish accent when he spoke, so it wasn't a surprise to catch him here of all places.

They spoke a bit with Mrs. Finnigan, who, if anything, had an even thicker Irish accent than her son. However, she was quite nice, but demanded support for the Irish team. After talking to her, they went to look at the Bulgarian side of the field which was a blend of red, white, and green.

Soon, they reached the water tap, where they encountered a lovely man who was complaining about not having enough air around his privates.

"Too much information, thank you," Clara muttered. And with that, Hermione burst out into a fit of giggles that seemed almost inhuman.

They walked back much more slowly, mainly because of the water, but also because they were constantly hailed by other Hogwarts peers. However, they returned with three fourths of the water they had, mainly because Harry sloshed a lot of his onto his shirt.

"Dad's having fun with the matches," Fred (or George, whatever) said.

"Damn," Clara said. "That is one sentence you should never hear, mainly because it concerns your _dad_. My flat, er," she blanked, "er, um, _house_ would've been burned down of my father played with matches."

George bounced excitedly. "Really? How do they work then?"

Clara shifted her leg, and put down the water pot she was carrying. "Well, there's this coat of phosphorus at the end of the stick to make the fire start. You hit it against the box, which also has special chemicals, and the friction causes a chemical reaction, and it bursts into flame."

George and Fred nodded along, though Clara had a feeling they didn't understand a single word she just said besides: _fire._

Clara joined Ginny for the rest of the time until lunch, and a bit after. Ludo Bagman, who was the person responsible for the Weasley's and Clara to get a ticket. Later, Barty Crouch apparated into the room as well.

At around dusk, everyone was getting all nervous and fidgety. Ginny strolled up to Clara asking if she wanted to join her, George, and Fred as they looked to buy some knick-knacks. Unfortunately, Clara had to decline, as she was feeling a bit peckish, and she decided to just lie down for a bit.

That was, evidently, a bad idea.

The moment Clara lay down on her tiny bed, she had been overwhelmed by a rush of heat. Her cheeks felt warm, and her neck was damp with sweat. Clara's hair was curling from her sweat (It was marvellously disgusting) and she was having trouble breathing.

Clara's first thought: allergic reaction. However, she had not come in contact with anything she knew to be allergic to.

Then, there was a tugging feeling in Clara's gut, and her arms and legs went all sore. It was like those 'growing cramps' except that Clara could feel it throughout her whole body. Clara sat up, and the feelings thankfully subsided.

Clara quickly changed, for she probably didn't have enough time to shower, but she didn't want to reek of human perspiration. However, Clara felt weird… She looked in the mirror and saw herself to be much different.

The thing was, she had always been on the short side. But when Clara stood in front of the mirror, she realized that she was definitely taller. Maybe only a couple inches, but something had definitely changed drastically. The other thing, her _face_. However weird that sounded, it was true. Clara's general facial features were the same, but they were more pronounced.

Her cheeks were higher, looking as if they'd lost some fat. Her jaw was sharper, and everything seemed to be in proportion. She was never a 'gangly' teen, but Clara just realized now that her body had gone through a 30-second growths spurt.

Clara didn't look of the age 13 anymore; she could pass for 16, or even 17. Clara bit her lip nervously, because that's not _how the human body works_.

Clara prayed that she had accidently just eaten one of George and Fred's weird candies, or that they slipped something into her drink, but something told her that wasn't true.

Slipping on a green hoodie, with the Irish flag imprinted, (she had decided last minute to support Ireland) she pulled the hood over head, hoping her friends wouldn't notice the, um, _change_ …

Thank goodness she had done everything before then, for at that moment, Ginny strolled into the tent. Ginny narrowed her eyes when she saw Clara.

"So… I see you've succumbed to the pressure and gone for team Ireland!" she said seriously, but then smiled playfully.

Clara shrugged, and her voice caught. "Erm, I'm fine now."

"Oi, we'd better get a move on!" one of the twins yelled.

Clara laughed, and the two girls left the tent and followed little lanterns that lit up a path. The talked a bit, but that was really all.

While walking, Clara noticed Ginny staring at her intently.

"What?" Clara asked.

Ginny shrugged. "You look different. And, you seem… taller… Blimey, you must've grown over the few weeks of summer break."

Clara nodded, but didn't say anything else. Right as they reached the entrance, the other half of the group converged.

Mr. Weasley laughed. "Ah, what a coincidence! We met up right at exactly the same time!"

Clara smiled politely, but didn't say anything. She pulled out her ticket and a person checked it out, and she followed Mr. Weasley up the steps to the top of the stadium And when she said top, she meant _top_.

When they reached a little boxed area that contained about twenty seats, Mr. Weasley assured them that they were in the right spot, and that they could sit down. Clara sat next to Ginny, who sat next to Hermione. There was seat to Clara's left that was the first seat in the row that remained unoccupied. The Top Box was filled with her and the Weasleys plus Harry, but nobody else.

"Did sir just call me Dobby?" a voice squeaked from behind them. They all turned around to see a little house elf, who Clara supposed was female.

Harry had told Clara of the house elf Dobby, but she had never actually seen one.

The house elf squeaked, "My name is Winky, and you must be Harry Potter!"

Clara frowned when Winky began ranting about house elves and how they only existed to serve their masters. They weren't paid, had no clothing, and served a generally miserable life.

Over the next thirty minutes, the Top Box began to fill. At one point, the Minister of Magic– Cornelius Fudge arrived. Fudge seemed greatly pleased to be sharing the Top Box with Harry Potter, and was beaming. Percy seemed quite jealous of Harry. Honestly, Clara didn't quite like Minister Fudge, but she just smiled and played along and shook his hand politely.

Fudge was talking animately about the Bulgarian minister and then– "Ah, Lucius! Here you are at last!"

Everybody turned around to face the Malfoy family. First, Clara noticed Lucius Malfoy. She had seen him in pictures and such, but had never met him. His son shared a great deal of likeness with him.

Of course, then she noticed Draco Malfoy, who Clara absolutely loathed until last year… Well, that was a lie. Clara hated herself for letting whatever she said slip, and she knew that Malfoy was still an ignorant, racist, arse.

Then, she examined Mrs. Malfoy, who was pretty. She was tall and slender, and had blonde hair as well. But her nose was hell high, and the edges of it were crinkled, as if she caught scent of something foul.

Lucius Malfoy smiled. He made no notice of the Weasley's or anyone else in the Top Box. He simply looked at the Minister with false happiness.

"Ah, Fudge. This is my wife, Narcissa, and my son, Draco."

Mr. Weasley looked quite strained, and he smiled faintly as Fudge mentioned him to Lucius. However, soon the Malfoys walked away, with Draco shooting a contemptuous look, and Hermione looking pink all over from the stare-down. Obviously, she felt awkward with being such pureblood loving, maniacs.

There were three minutes until the match was supposed to officially begin. Minister Fudge was being readied by his assistants to make his opening speech, he was practicing his smile and– was that a tuning fork?

"Clara?" A voice called from behind her. It sounded very, very, so very familiar…

She turned around, as did pretty much everyone else. Her heart skipped a beat. "John?"

There he was. Late, which wasn't unusual for him, but he held a ticket in hand and had a confused look on his face.

"When–" he asked, with a confused look on his face.

Clara was speechless. She raised an eyebrow, but at that moment, the Minister's voice boomed. She hastily signalled for John to sit on her left, which remained empty.

"Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to the four hundred twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!"

Clara turned to whisper in John's ear. "How are you even here?"

"I got a ticket–"

Clara rolled her eyes. "Yeah, but these tickets are bloody expensive–"

"I told you: my _father_ got them."

Clara narrowed her eyes. "John, we've known each other for long enough for me to know when you're lying."

"You can think that."

Clara huffed. However, she was quickly attracted to something on field…

" _Veela_!" Mr. Weasley cheered.

About a hundred Veela strode out of the Bulgarian side of the field, gracefully as silk. Clara could feel her own breath hitch. Their skin shone and glimmered, and seemed to reflect the stars themselves. Their hair was a beautiful mix between silver and gold, and honestly Clara wouldn't be surprised if they were part aurum/argentum.

Then, the music started, and Clara gripped the armrest. John muttered something, but it was so distant– And the veela were dancing faster, and faster. And their hair was twirling… Their skirts were billowing around them, causing their legs to be almost completely shown–

By now, Clara was swearing appreciatively. Her eyes completely fixed on the dancers–

"Clara!" John muttered urgently.

"Shh…" Clara said, but she swayed a bit, as if she were intoxicated. She giggled. "Don't interrupt their dancing–"

"Oi!"

Clara was snapped out of, whatever it was. Ginny was eyeing her carefully, and John was rubbing his hand.

"You clenched my hand while it was still on the armrest," John grumbled.

"What?"

Ginny tucked her hair behind her ear. "Honestly, I thought you were– Bleeding hell!"

Clara looked up to see Harry up against the wall of the box. His face was white, and he seemed to be struggling–

"Harry?" Hermione shrieked. "What are you doing?"

Harry sat back down in his seat, and was clutching the green shamrock which he pulled off his shirt. Ron, had already ripped it off, and was tearing it up forcefully. They were definitely going to be Team Bulgaria now.

To be honest, after looking at the veela, and then her own shirt, Clara had the most desperate urge to just remove her shirt and don one of Bulgaria, but she had a feeling that would not have gone well.

Clara leaned into Ginny, "I'm surprised Ron still has his pants on!" she whispered, though she still wasn't quite over he high, and she sort of giggled it out. Ginny snorted, and patted Clara on the head. Hermione breathed out sharply, her face pink.

And so, Clara turned her attention back to the game. Leprechauns were dancing for Ireland, gold fell out of the sky (Clara made sure to get as much as she could) and the team players were coming out one by one...

Finally, the whistle blew, and the game finally officially started. It was hardcore Quidditch to say the least. Clara had been on a broom a couple times, and absolutely loved it. However, she never tried out to play for Gryffindor because– well, there's just something that stopped her. Anyway, these players had the fastest broom, and they were going at the speed of light.

Ginny went absolutely white when an Irish player hit the ground. Clara felt her stomach turn to… _God, was your leg bone supposed to look like that? Nope,_ Clara decided. _Nope, nope, nope, definitely not…_

It was the most action that didn't involve Clara almost dying that she had ever experienced. Ireland got a penalty, then Bulgaria– No! Two penalties for Ireland! The referee began hitting on the veela…

Then, there was just that one, quiet moment where no one dared to even breathe or make a single sound. Lynch– Ireland's Seeker– had spotted the snitch, and was most definitely going to crash… And Krum (everyone knew who Krum, was. Bulgaria's Seeker.) was on his tail, and–

"Where's the snitch?"

"BLOODY HELL, KRUM'S GOT IT!" somebody yelled.

And then everybody screamed. It was chaos. The scoreboard was flashing: **Bulgaria–160, Ireland–170.**

"AND IRELAND WINS!"


	6. After the Game

*** Aaaaand here we go, Chapter 6! If you haven't noticed my pattern of updating, I do it every three days after a chapter has been uploaded, usually between 6PM–10PM. Anyway, enjoy! :)**

* * *

To be completely honest, the Quidditch game was actually quite entertaining. John had enjoyed watching the teams battle it out for the win, though he did not cheer for a country of preference. He just liked watching. Of course, there was this bluish bruise forming where Clara gripped his arm… But besides that, he was okay.

John walked back to the tent where Clara and Ginny were staying at. While walking, Clara kept pelting him with questions.

"But _how_? I mean, you got to sit in the Top Box. Those tickets are expensive!"

John shrugged. "I don't know, Clara. I don't have a formal income situation, I just got the tickets!"

"And who got them for you?"

John clenched his fusts. "My father," he managed to say.

Clara raised an eyebrow. "OK, fine. Whatever. Honestly, I'm glad to see you."

Ginny waved her hand. "Excuse me, but I also exist!"

Clara smirked. Really? I didn't realize!" Ginny promptly punched her friend on the arm lightly.

The redhead flicked her hair. "So, where are you staying?"

John looked around for a bit, then pointed. "Right over there. About three hundred metres from here. Not that far, actually."

Ginny nodded. "Cool. Are you really here alone?"

John nodded slowly. "Yeah… Why?"

"Well, most parents would drop dead at the thought of having their child attend the Quidditch World Cup solo."

"My parents don't care," _lie._ "They let me come because they trust me. And let me tell you, by the way, that I'm not going to sleep tonight for the sole purpose that I remain alive."

Clara kicked the ground in front of her, causing her to stumble. She kept doing it though, as if it were a game.

Ginny ignored Clara. "Why? Do you have a bounty on your head?"

"No," John said slowly. "But, Ireland just won the Cup, which means fans will be freaking out tonight, which means alcohol, which means that I'm going to keep my wand on me _at all times_."

Ginny nodded. "Actually, that's not a bad idea."

They reached the tent before the rest of the Weasley family did, and John bid each of his friends good night.

"Night," Ginny said, before patting John on the shoulder. She pushed the flap to the tent aside, and went in.

Clara smiled. She was a tiny thing, so _short_. Her eyes were all big, and the whites seemed to glow. With a smirk, she lunged, and hugged John fiercely.

John gasped. "No! No, no, no, no, no! I'm against the hugging thing."

"It's good to see you," Clara whispered into his coat. She pulled away. "I'd better get going. But, uh, see you in the morning?"

"Sure."

"K," she swayed a bit, and frowned when she looked at John.

"What?"

"You need a haircut," she said.

"And it was going so well…"

Clara laughed. "Anyway, see you tomorrow! Good night!" She waved, and entered the tent as well. John found himself awkwardly standing outside the tent, so he left immediately.

The walk to his tent was a short one. He whistled, hummed, twiddled his fingers, played with the hem of his coat, in order to keep himself occupied. The world around him was bursting with green and white lights and colour. Though, white wasn't a colour…

Nevermind that, John entered his own tent, and sat on the tiny bed. He pulled his satchel out from under the bed, and opened it. Inside, was a sketchbook, some Muggle pencils, and a couple quills. All of this was for John to draw.

While in his solitude, John was easily bored. To ensure his brain didn't melt and drip out of his ears and eyes, he picked up the hobby of drawing and sketching and occasionally painting.

He had found the things hidden throughout his 'house' and decided that he could mend the sketchbook with magic, and that he could fix the Muggle pencils as well. He despised using quills for his art, because it always smudged, and he couldn't erase his lines.

His art was mostly the world around him, and he had never drawn portraits of people… John looked at the book, and then the pencils, and decided it was worth a shot.

But who to draw? He didn't particularly want to draw anybody he knew, like Clara or Ginny, because that would be too awkward for him. Also, that would be too easy. He wanted something fresh, new…

 _Amelia Pond._ Why the girl came running back to his mind, John didn't know. But, there were times where he would look out into the distance and see that girl. Well, he saw others too. But, it was as of Amelia were a memory from not long ago, slipping away like the others had.

Once, John had woken up and gone to the kitchen to see the black of a blond woman, and when he asked who she was, she vanished. Leaving only a teacup, which contained cold tea from yesterday.

But, John could remember Amelia. At least, he was pretty sure he could. He sometimes saw an older version of her, but John prefered the young girl more.

John started on her face. First, he made sure everything was in proportion, and that he got the hairlined right… Then he made a simple version of her eyes… Then her nose… And her mouth… And her freckles… Then her hair…

Later, he added detail to all of her features. He added in the light, making lighter patches of grey where her hair shone. Soon, John was completely indulged in making the girl as perfect as he possible could. So, when he was done, he took one look at his drawing, and growled in frustration. _There was something missing…_

There was a crashing sound from outside. John dropped his things, startled, but quickly packed them away, going for his wand. He went to the opening of the tent to give the Irish a piece of his mind–

He opened his tent flap to see people running, screaming, and cursing, and crying and– John knew this was no simple matter of some drunk Ireland supporters...As fast as he could, he pulled his coat on.

He ran out, nearly getting trampled, before running between tents to get to Clara. Yes, she had to be cared for. He broke out into a sprint, and got there just a minute and a bit later. He kept tripping over things that had been knocked down, and he had been dodging people as well.

He was panting by the time he got to the tent, and he saw that the inhabitants were starting at a group of people, harassing a family. There was kid who was spinning sixty feet in the air, obviously unconscious. John felt a tightening in his stomach. The most disgusting thing to see was a helpless, hurt child. John clenched his fists–

"John?"

He whipped around, and was ever so thankful to see Clara, and of course, Ginny as well. He stood frozen, but then said, "We need to get out of here, _now._ "

Mr. Weasley seemed to agree. "Kids, get to the forest as fast as you can. _Stick together._ I'll get you when all of this is sorted out."

Fred grabbed Ginny's hand, and said gruffly, "Let's go." He pulled her as fast as he could to the forest. Clara had to tug John as well, for he was still staring at the family…

It was completely dark out, but he made sure that he always had his hand in Clara's. She had to be kept safe. People were pressing up against him, there were children crying, people screaming–

Ron yelled in pain, then swore. John looked around, his hand still holding Clara's, and found Ron sprawled on the ground. He got to his feet, and muttered, "tripped over a root."

"With feet that size, it's no wonder you did," said the drawling voice of Draco Malfoy.

John had spotted Malfoy once in the Top Box, but hadn't made contact with him at all. There was a burning sensation rising up in his throat. Malfoy looked utterly relaxed, as if the chaos around his didn't bother him the slightest.

"Oh, fuck off, Malfoy," Ron cursed. John inwardly cringed, for he didn't like hearing others swear, which in fairness, was hypocritical, because John swore all the time when he was alone. There was a lot of built up anger inside him, which might just burst right now…

"Language, Weasley. You'd better hurry up, now. You wouldn't want _her_ to be spotted," Malfoy said calmly. He nodded in Hermione's direction.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Hermione said shakily.

"They're after Muggles. Do you really want your knickers flashed in midair? That's what they're doing to the mudblood females."

Ron took a big step forward, but Hermione pulled him back saying, "No, it's not worth it."

Clara freed herself from John's grasp. "Excuse me, Malfoy. What what exactly are you doing here? You seem to be supporting this–this chaos!"

"I do," he snapped.

Clara was seething. "What? So you support people getting killed? Women getting harassed–"

"They deserve it."

"Well, some arseholes like you deserve it too," Clara warned. She pulled out her wand. "Wanna feel what's it's like to dangle fifty feet in the air with only your underpants?"

"Hey!" John warned quietly.

Clara shot him a defiant, murderous look. Hermione pulled her back, which only seemed to make Malfoy happier.

Harry was twitching. "Well, Malfoy? Why are you here then? Are your parents running around with the masked and hooded lot?"

"I wouldn't tell you."

Hermione seemed absolutely fed up. "Come on, we need to find the others–"

"I'd keep you bushy head down, if I were you," Malfoy sneered. "Then again, I'm not a pureblood bi–"

But, Hermione had literally grabbed Ron, Harry and Clara. And John ran after her, so he didn't hear the last bit of Malfoy's sentence, but Clara broke free from Hermione, because, let's face it, you can't keep a grip on three thirteen year olds.

Clara ran back, and John followed, pulling her back, but not before Clara yelled, "You're a bloody, fucking bastard!"

John hailed her away back to the group, where Hermione gave him a small thanks for getting Clara back.

"Thank you, Clara," Ron muttered quietly so that Hermione couldn't hear. "Though, Malfoy deserved a hell of alot worse."

"I know," Clara said, once again pulling herself out of John's hand. "Though someone stopped me."

John flinched. "Do you really think we had the time though? We need to find our friend–Ginny, byt the way– and get to safety."

Clara 'humphed' and crossed her arms.

" _Où est Madame Maxime? Nous l'avons perdue–_ " A girl with curly brown hair was looking expectantly at John and the group.

"Um, What?" Rons said.

" 'Ogwarts," the girl said bitterly.

" _Nous ne savons pas où Madame Maxime est, désolé_ ," John said quickly, before walking on.

Hermione raised her eyebrow. "You also speak French?"

John shrugged. "I speak a lot of languages."

Hermione sighed. "Yeah, but _fluently_?"

John was confused. How could you not speak a language fluently… "Of course, fluently. I don't speak half-French. I haven't met anyone who does. I will most likely know every single language you can throw at me, and even some you don't even know."

Hermione glowered. "Okay, that doesn't matter right now…"

"No!" Harry gasped. "I've lost my wand!"

John sighed, while Clara groaned. They ran into a distressed looking house-elf, that was running around frantically, but thoroughly discombobulated. Hermione had a fit at Harry mentioning she might be confused because she was doing something her masters didn't like.

"Oh, it's slavery! That's what it is!" Hermione panted.

"Er," Ron said at the sound of another explosion, "Let's get going–" And so, they walked into the woods, delving deeper, and deeper...

They bumped into a man John had seen, but whom everyone else seemed to be a bit more familiar with.

"What's going on? Why are you wandering alone?" the man asked.

"There's… sort of riot going on…" Ron said tentatively.

Cue the blank stare.

"Erm… Some people got a hold of a Muggle family…"

"Shit! Damn them!" The man yelled. And he disapparated with a small _pop_!

They continued to walk, until they appeared into a clearing. Hermione was theorizing about who committed the attack on the Muggles when the sound of footsteps interrupted her.

"Hello?" Harry called out. "Who's there?"

" _MORSMORDRE!"_ John fell onto his back, as the a green light erupted into the sky.

"Holy shite," Clara gasped.

There, in the sky, was a green skull that seemed to be made up of stars. The skull opened its mouth, and a large snake protruded from it, very tongue like.

"We've got to move!" Hermione hissed.

But, John was staring at the direction of which the spell had originated…

"Come on!" Hermione groaned. "We need to get out of here! That's You-Know-Who's sign!"

" _Voldemort's_?" Harry gasped, dazed.

Ron was already running, And Clara was hauling herself up– John snapped. He got up quickly, and pulled grabbed hold of Clara's hand, and pulled her along. She gave a small 'oi' but got over it, and was running almost as fast as he.

John could feel something different in the air… "DUCK!" And he pulled Clara onto the ground. John got some dirt and grass in his mouth, but he was fine. The alternative would have been to be hit with twenty Stunning Spells at once.

Another unknown man to John was pointing his wand fervently at the group. He looked to be of the Ministry, with his robes, but John realized that really wasn't important right now.

"That's my son!" Mr. Weasley yelled, but the Ministry Man paid no heed.

"Which of you did it? Who conjured the Dark Mark?"

"We didn't do it," Clara choked out, sitting up. "But there was someone who must've done the incantation–"

"Don't lie! You've been discovered at the scene of the crime!"

Clara narrowed her eyes, and her voice deepened, if only slightly. "Yes, but we are five underage magicians who were running away from the chaos, when we heard someone chant the spell. Do you really think a group of teens would be able to pull a stupid stunt like this? Because if you do, God help us!"

The Ministry Man flinched, and his hand twitched on his wand. John was flinching, because Clara had just done something bold, but also something immensely stupid.

Thankfully, Mr. Weasley calmed the situation down. "Where exactly was this person…"

Hermione took the reigns from here. "Over there," she pointed.

A man walked into the forest, and after a minute, came out with a limp figure in his arms… Winky, the house elf…

"Really, Amos?" said Mr. Weasley, who directed his question over to the man who went into the forest. "Do you really think a house elf did it? You need a wand to perform the spell…"

Amos said, "She had a wan, Arthur."

" _What?_ "

Amos held up a wand. "She had it gripped in her hands. And that's a violation of the Code of Wand Use. _No non-human is permitted to use or carry a wand_."

Another pop, and the man they had run in earlier, who had sworn loudly, appeared. He looked confused and breathless. "The Dark Mark! Who did it? What's going on? Barty?"

"Where have you been Barty?" the man continued, talking to the Ministry Person–Barty–, "What happens to the house elf?"

"I have been busy, Ludo," Barty said. "And my elf appears to have been stunned…" _No doubt by one of those twenty Stunning Spells you threw at us_ , John thought.

"Stunned? By whom… wait," it was dawning on him… "You? But why–" And it all seemed to crash down onto Ludo. He looked at the skull in the sky, then back to Barty. "Why would Winky–? She wouldn't know– She'd need a wand–"

"She had one," Amos said. There was silence, and Amos took the opportunity to reanimate Winky. " _Ennervate!"_

Winky stirred slowly. Her big, brown eyes blinked slowly, and John saw her pupils dilate. Winky gasped when she saw the ark Mark in the sky.

"Elf!" Amos yelled. "Do you know who I am? I"m a member of the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures!"

Winky rolled into a ball, and began to sob loudly. "I-I-I is not know how, sir! I's just–"

"We found you here with this wand!" Amos said, holding up the wand.

"Hey!" Harry called out. "That's my wand!"

"Excuse me?" Amos said, clearly dumbfounded.

"I dropped it! That's my wand," Harry repeated.

"Is that a confession, I hear? You threw it away after conjuring the Dark Mark?" Amos said sternly.

"Amos!" Mr. Weasley said. "Do you really think _Harry Potter_ would be one to conjure the Dark Mark?"

"Er… of course not…"

"I dropped it before we entered the woods, sir," Harry clarified.

Mr. Diggory began questioning Winky again. "So, you found the wand, decided you'd pick it up, and had some fun, did ya?"

"I's not do magic with it, sir!" squeaked Winky. "I is just picking it up! I's not make Dark Mark!"

"It couldn't have been her!" Hermione said, nervously. "I mean, the voice we heard was much deeper than hers."

Harry nodded "It didn't sound anything like Winky; it was human."

John thought of the voice. "It sounded deeper than an ordinary female, too. Most likely a male casted the spell…"

Amos growled, "Well then, we'll see. There's a simple trick to discover the last spell a wand has cast…"

" _Prior Incantato_!"

A giant serpent erupted from the end, but this times, on a smaller scale, and it looked to be of a dark, smoky colour…

" _Deletrius!_ " The smoke serpent faded away.

"I is not do it! I is not do it!" Winky squealed.

" _You've been caught red-handed!_ " Amos boomed.

"No, Amos!" Mr. Weasley said. "She's just a house-elf. Where do you think she would've learned the spell?"

Barty raised an eyebrow. "Amos, if you are saying that my elf committed the crime, are you saying that she learned the spell– from me?"

"No, sir…"

"Very well. Under normal circumstances, I would ask you to take care of her. However, knowing that she is mine, I will deal with her and her behaviour," Barty snapped. He looked at Winky. "And, rest assured, you will be punished. You were to remain in the tent, while I sorted everything out. You disobeyed me. _This means clothes_."

"No!" Winky shrieked, in the most, awful, pitiful voice. "No, sir! Not clothes! Not clothes!" she sobbed, latching onto Barty's leg.

"She was scared!" Hermione blurted. "She wanted to get away from those wizards–"

"I will not house a house-elf who disobeyes me," Barty said coldly. There was an awkward silence, in which John was panting quite hard…

Harry was returned of his wand, and Mr. Weasley led them out of the clearing. Hermione had an absolute fit, while John could only remain silent. Clara was looking a bit sick, and she was clasping her hands tightly…

John walked back quietly, when Clara stopped him.

"Look, uh, you can go back to your tent now. I'll tell you everything when I get the chance, OK?"

John wanted to follow her, but her noticed her pleading eyes, and well, he could never say 'no' to her, could her?

"Just, promise to be safe?" John asked.

Clara smiled faintly. "Let's be honest, _you_ are the one who wouldn't be alive if it weren't for me."

John was too quiet to argue, and with one last goodbye, he headed off into the direction of his tent, without knowing just how true Clara's statement was.

" _Let's be honest, you are the one who wouldn't be alive if it weren't for me."_


	7. Soon

*** OK first of all, I wanted to apologize for the late chapter. I went on a trip, which sadly had no Internet *cries* so, I couldn't upolad. But, I did write it, so the moment I got back to the InterWebs, I uploaded, YAAAAAAY! So, I'll be back with my regular schedule. Expect the next chapter on Thursday.**

* * *

"Come on, Clara," murmured a voice, while shaking her shoulder. "Time to get up."

Clara groaned. Without opening her eyes, she muttered, "Go away! I'm tired–"

"We're leaving soon, you need to wake up," slowly, Hermione's voice became evident, and with great reluctance, Clara opened her eyes, only to cringe at the bright light.

Clara got up, and yawned. She looked around, and realized that it had only been a few hours since she had actually gone to sleep. She hopped out of bed, only to realize that she had slept in her day clothes and not put on pajamas. Oh, well.

Hermione handed Clara a new set of clothing, to which Clara put on slowly and groggily. She then packed her things, and waited as Ginny could be a heavy sleeper when she wanted to. After realizing that Hermione would be better at handling the fiery, redhead teen, who had decided to use a rude hand gesture after Clara poked her arm in attempts to wake her friend from slumber, Clara left the girls' tent.

The morning was cool, and Clara was happy that she had a sweater on. They sky was grey, damn Britain, and it really emphasized last night's events. As if: _Yesterday night was hell. Let's make sure you have an awful morning as well._

It was still loud, though it was mostly just the Ireland supporters reminding Team Bulgaria that they had won last night. In all honesty, it was kind of nice. There was at least _one_ thing that was normal today…

Speaking of normal, here came its shining student– John. Clara waved glumly in his direction, and sat down right outside the tent. John was now actually quite tall. She had missed that in all that had occurred the previous night.

"Clara," John greeted, then sat next to Clara. She briefly noticed how ragged his clothes looked, torn sleeves, holes, the dusty scent…

"Damn, where have you been living?" Clara said, while frowning at John's black jacket.

John shifted uncomfortably. "Sorry, just been a little occupied. Didn't really care about getting a new jacket…"

Clara sighed. "John, you were being stupid again. You can do magic, and you're great at it! Why not put those Hogwarts skills to good use and mend your jacket?"

John sighed. "Sorry, was I being stupid? _No magic outside of school_ , genius."

Clara's heart leapt with embarrassment. She hadn't thought it all through… "Why not ask a parent?"

This seemed to strike a nerve in John. His jaw twitched– if ever so slightly– and he looked down. "Erm, you need to get out of the way; the Weasleys' are putting the tents away…"

Clara got up quickly, and moved out of the way of Bill Weasley. She had wanted to ask more of John, but right then, Ginny came trotting out.

"Hi," Ginny said unenthusiastically. She was looking a bit peaky this morning, but other than that, she seemed fine. "It's way too early, and I'm tiiiiiiired!" She yawned.

Clara rolled her eyes. "Are we supposed to pack up the tent now?"

Ginny shrugged. "Well, I suppose so. I think we've got everything out… Hermione's taking one last look."

"Okay."

John waved his hand. "Hello? Still here!"

Ginny nodded in acknowledgment. "I see you. Though, I'm seriously wondering how it is you got seats with us at the Top Box, but… Yeah."

Clara sighed. "She's rude in the morning," Clara explained.

"At least she's ginger," John muttered.

Clara laughed. "What?"

"Nothing."

Hermione came out of the tent, looking satisfied. "Everything's good. I think Mr. Weasley is having trouble with Harry and Ron… Better wake them up…"

She was there and gone in a heartbeat. Clara shrugged at Hermione's behaviour, she was always like that– she was Ron's and Harry's _carer_.

Soon enough, Ron and Harry stumbled out of the tent. Mr. Weasley smiled warmly, and gently asked Clara and the others to assist him as he packed up the tents. Clara obliged, though she elbowed John and explained to him that it would be the mannerful thing to do and help out. It only took a few minutes, but they were ready. Mr. Weasley hustled them up, and Clara followed him back to the top of the hill.

On the way, Clara asked, "So, John. What about your tent?"

He shrugged. "Well, I sort of just found it there, so I put it up–"

"Where is it now?"

"Down there," John said, pointing down at the moore. "It was left for me… I think. But, I wasn't sure what to do about it, so I left it."

"Wow."

"It's nothing special, nor amusing. I'm confused as to why you thought that phrase was necessary in the conversation…"

Clara rolled her eyes. "You are impossible."

John smiled, which was one of those things you saw often, but not genuinely. "Not as impossible as you."

They reached the Portkey area, and a man assigned Clara and the Weasleys to a portkey. John was assigned a green, holey hat, while Clara went to an old, rubber tire. With one last look at John, she touched the tire, which sent her spinning toward _Stoatshead Hill_ , was it?

They walked back to the burrow, and were greeted by an anxious Mrs. Weasley.

"Oh, thank goodness!" Mrs. Weasley cried. She help up an article from _The Daily Prophet_. "Arthur, I've been so worried! Oh, thank Merlin you're all safe…" She stared at her children. Then, with the speed of a mother who loved her children above all else, she hugged the twins.

"Mum! Ouch– you're– strangling us!"

Mrs. Weasley began to sob. "Oh, I shouted at you before you left! That's all I could think about– my last words to you… What if You-Know-Who got you? And the last thing I ever said was that you didn't get enough O.W.L.s?"

"Molly, they're fine, calm down…" Mr. Weasley said. He led her her away. Quietly, to ensure Mrs. Weasley didn't hear, he added, "Bill, could you get the _Prophet_ … I want to see what it says…"

One they were all packed into the small kitchen, with strong tea, some alcohol; (in case something really awful happened) they listened to Mr. Weasley.

"Ministry blunders… Culprits not apprehended… lax security… Dark wizards running…" Mr. Easley scowled. "Who wrote this? Ah… Rita Skeeter…"

Percy perked up. "Oh, she's got it for the Ministry! Last week, she said we were wasting our time quibbling about cauldron thickness and instead–"

"Percy, shut up, will you?" Bill yawned.

"Oh," Mr. Weasley said, which stopped the impending argument. "I'm mentioned."

"What?" Mrs. Weasley said. "But, I read the whole thing! If they mentioned you I wouldn't have worried about whether or not–"

Mr. Weasley scanned the page. "Not by name, dear. ' _A ministry official claimed that no one was hurt'_ No one was hurt. ' _However, there are rumors of several bodies being carried out of the forest–'_ Well, there are rumours now…"

Mr. Weasley sighed. "I'd better go to my office and smooth this over…"

"But, it's summer holydays! Surely someone would be able to–" Mrs. Weasley was cut off.

"Dear, it must get done. I'll have to do it…"

Percy was jumping in his seat like a sugar-high five-year-old. (Not really, but he was _excited._ ) "I'll go too! Mr. Crouch will need all the help he can get!" He left the kitchen.

"Mrs. Weasley?" Asked Harry. "Erm, has Hedwig arrived with any letters for me?" Harry seemed most uncomfortable.

Mrs. Weasley payed nearly no attention. "Hedwig… No…"

Harry looked at Ron. "Could I dump my stuff in your room…?"

"Uh, yeah, sure. Hermione, wanna–"

Hermione smiled weakly. "Yes, I'll come." The three hurried up the staircase. Clara was left with Ginny in the kitchen.

Ginny sighed. "Fancy going to my room? I'm terribly bored."

Clara shrugged. "Sure."

They took the trip to Ginny's room, which seemed much more difficult today, as if the stairs were steeper and the room was higher…

Ginny plopped down on her bed, sighing. Clara sat next to Ginny, her legs dangling over the edge.

"I bet you could go in there and find out what they're saying," Ginny said.

"What? I don't think your family would tell me about the ministry… If you wanted to know, why not just stay downstairs?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Not my parents, stupid. Ron, Hermione and Harry."

"Why?"

"You're closer to them than I am," Ginny said simply. "Sure, I talk to them once in awhile, but you're good friends with them. They would tell _you_ whatever is going on between them if you went in there. They would never tell me."

Clara sighed. "If they wanted me to know, they would've invited me up."

"No. They didn't invite you because of me. They expected me to follow– and they're right."

There was a sinking feeling in Clara's stomach. She had always known that she was closer with the trio, but never had she realized how much Ginny wanted to know of them too. It wasn't so that she could be around Harry, no. Ginny wanted to be part of the action and help.

"To be honest, I would rather be here with you than listen about them," Clara said quickly.

Ginny laughed. "No matter how good you are at lying, I'm your friend and I know that was fake as _Witch Weekly_ news."

Clara laughed. "It's true though!"

* * *

It had been around one week after, and it was the Saturday before school started up again. Mr. Weasley and Percy were barely home; leaving in the early morning; returning late, and much time after dinner.

"It's been an absolute uproar. I've had to put out fires all week, because of the Howlers. If they aren't opened, they explode. Scorch marks _on my desk_ , and my favourite quill reduced to _cinders_. Cinders, I say."

Ginny, who was beside Clara on the couch, was trying to fix her _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ book, after 'accidentally' dropping it into the hands of some of the gnomes.

"Why are you getting so many Howlers?" Ginny asked.

"Oh, they're complaining about World Cup security. They're all asking for compensations, and there was this one from Mundungus Fletcher, which was absolutely ridiculous!"

Clara rolled her eyes, and continued to attempt to help Ginny in fixing her book.

By the end of the day, Clara was sent to Ginny's room to check that she had everything she needed. It had been agreed that she would travel with the Weasleys to Hogwarts. Mrs. Weasley came in, handing them all the little things they would need, and tips for folding and conserving space. Clara ended up using a trunk to carry her things, as Mrs. Weasley explained that it would be unconventional to use any other form of casing.

At ten, they were all sent to sleep, with the heavy rain to lull them. It was warm, yet gloomy at the same time. To be safe in the comfort of a bed, only to have the cold, harsh weather looming from the outside.

Closing her eyes, Clara felt herself losing her mind to a deep slumber, only to be jerked awake by a woman, than sounded eerily like herself.

" _Soon._ "


	8. Another Friend

*** It's so hot and humid here, *cries* Anyway lighter chapter ahead! (Totally didn't rush this one because I had a three-day Doctor Who marathon– _whaaaaaat?_ No.)**

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The rain pounded against the building John used as a home. There were a couple buckets lying around which John had stationed to catch any of the falling rain. There were some puddles on the ground, but it wasn't like John could do anything about that.

It was 8:39 AM, the day John was supposed to go back to Hogwarts. Now… There was trouble. Because, he had no means to actually get to Hogwarts. The last time… Well, last year was a blur, and sometimes it seemed that there were events missing… John looked around. Not for the first time, he wondered how he got to this 'house.' Nothing made sense…

Coughing, John packed his things. He had no way of getting to Hogwarts, but there was always that little bit of hope… Sighing, John pulled out his art things again. He had never found the time to do his assigned school work, for he had been engrossed in drawing anything and everything that came to mind.

It only seemed like minutes that he started drawing, when there was a loud honking from outside. Startled, John had accidently drawn a line straight through his art, and he moaned in frustration. Another honk. Huffing, John went outside, _in the pouring rain,_ mind you, to be greeted by a purple double-decker bus.

A man in an atrocious purple uniform jumped out. "Hello," he greeted. "Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded. Just stick out your wand hand, step on board, and we can take you wherever you want to go. My name is Stan Shunpike, and I'll be your conductor this morning."

John held up a hand. "Excuse me?"

Stan Shunpike raised an eyebrow. "Thees is a Knight Boos," Stan's accent became clearer for he was not talking at the speed of light, "And I have 'Choo flagged down as someone who needs peeckup."

John frowned. "You said you can take me anywhere?"

Stan nodded. "Yes…"

"What about Hogwarts?"

Stan frowned. "Nope, can't do that one! Strict rules against it, and charms and protections…"

John nodded. "King's Cross?"

Stan nodded wildly. " 'Course we can do that one. Though, it's full of Muggles, 'choo might have tah joomp. Maybeh, we'll see…"

"Okay, that's fine. How much?"

"Eleven Sickles."

John frowned. He wasn't sure he had eleven sickles… Maybe, somewhere buried in his belongings. Clara sometimes gave him money in hopes of Hogsmeade things, but he never went, so…

"Okay, fine," he decided.

Stan smiled toothily. "Very well, I'll need your stoof…"

Thankfully, all was packed, so all John had to do was rummage through his things for a minute, and pull out eleven Sickles. When John looked back up, Stan's face was doing a down thing. It was all liney… That was called a frown right…?

John hopped onto the bus, soaking wet, and a little annoyed. He wasn't sure who booked him a ride, but he wasn't complaining. He sat down on a brass chair, and Stan explained that at night they turned into beds.

In all honesty, John didn't really care. There were a few more people who got on the bus, and after a few minutes, it was completely full. Probably because it was day, and the first day of school, and people were rushing…

John had a faint memory of Harry saying something about this bus. However, last year had been a rough one for John. He had been alone nearly all the time. If there was one thing John hated–

"King's Cross! King's Cross!"

John, and a few others, stood up and went to the front of the bus. He carried his luggage, which was heavy, and waited for the stop. Then, he was pushed off the bus by the amount of people who were getting off there too. He had miscalculated the number of people needing rides to King's Cross. All the same, he walked onto the platform between 9 and 10. It was around ten, so he had another hour to wait. Quietly edging his way toward the brick wall, he slipped through the barrier and onto platform 9 ¾ .

John saw the scarlet train being cleaned by means of magical soaps and _regular_ water. He had never been to the station this early, and the platform was near empty. John sat down on a red bench, which was attached the brick wall.

After fifteen minutes, a family popped through the barrier, then a young girl with her father, then two teenage girls, another family… A family with two dads… At 10:30 the platform was teeming with people, and it was getting really loud. John frowned. He hadn't been able to say a proper "goodbye" to Clara before she left the World Cup, and was a little disappointed. He was anxious to see her.

Another twenty minutes passed, and _finally_ , the Weasley family came through. Ginger and Clara came in together, and they were laughing happily. John cleared his throat before getting his trunk, and walking up to his friends.

Clara smiled when she saw him, as did Ginger. They both hugged him and John felt a curious heat rise up in his cheeks.

John squirmed out of their embrace. "No. _No hugs_ whatsoever. I'm against it…" The two girls pouted playfully.

Ginger flipped her flaming hair. "So, John. I didn't get much of a chance to talk to you, as Clara was hogging you at the World Cup."

"Was not!"

Ginger rolled her eyes. "Anyway, how've you been doing?" Ginger frowned, and waved her hand in front of John's face. "Helloooo?"

John shook himself. "Hm? Sorry, just I tune myself out whenever something not-interesting is happening, which is 90% of the time."

"I feel hurt."

"Do you need a doctor?"

"A what?" Ginger asked, with a raised eyebrow.

"A _doctor_."

"What are you even talking about?"

Clara rolled her eyes. "It's like the Muggle form of a healer."

"Why do you have to insert the word 'like' everywhere?" John asked, annoyed. This wasn't a simile.

Clara massaged her temples. "Fine, It _is_ a Muggle form of a healer."

"Thank you."

Right then, the train whistled, and for a person who had arrived so early at the station, he was running a bit late.

"Better get going, then," Ginger quipped. The three hauled their trunks onto the train, and the two girls waved goodbye to Mrs. Weasley, while John gave a funny salute-thingy.

As they trudged their things in hopes of finding a compartment, Clara commented on John's form of adieu.

"Are we in the military?"

"No, I just couldn't pull of the wave thing."

"You just, stick up your hand–"

They were interrupted by Ginger. "Oh, I found a near-empty compartment!"

Ginger pushed the door open, and forged her way inside. There was only one inhabitant in the compartment, and _she_ was engrossed in reading a magazine.

"Mind if we join you?" Ginger asked.

The girl looked up. Her voice was feathery and light, like a song. There, now _that_ was a simile. Anyway, the girl had a sing-song voice that was very fairytale like, and her hair seemed to reflect that. It was a silvery-blonde, and some parts were curly, while other bits were dead straight.

"Oh, I don't mind. No one really sits here unless they have to," the girl said.

"Thanks."

They all put their trunks on the racks, and they sat down uncomfortably.

"I'm Clara," Clara said, in hopes of breaking the silence.

"The girl looked up from the magazine that she had returned to reading, "I'm Luna. Though, my fellow peers will sometimes call me 'Luney' but I don't mind…"

Ginger snapped up. "Oh! Luna Lovegood! You're in our year, aren't you? I've had some classes with you– So has Clara!"

Luna pulled out a pair of pink spectacles. She placed them low on her nose. "Yes, I have seen you…" she decided.

Ginger smiled warmly. "Hi, I'm Ginny, and this is John. He's in fourth year."

Luna smiled sweetly. "Hello! I'm glad to have met someone like you. The other kids… Well, they think I'm quite funny, and I haven't worked out why."

Clara smiled. "Luna, I don't really know you, but I bet that if I could get to know you better, that you'd be amazingly funny," she noticed Luna's curious look, and added quickly, "because of your personal humour an charm!"

"You'd be a great therapist," John muttered. He earned a blow to the chest by an elbow from Ginger. He glared at her. "Ow."

Luna swayed her head. "John, was it? You're head is full of Nargles."

"What?"

Luna smiled. "They fly around and make your brain go all fuzzy."

Clara smiled. "Yes, his head is _full_ of them."

"Oh, thank you!" Luna exclaimed. "Nobody has ever believed me! They think it's all nonsense. Mind you– _Clara_? You have Nargles whizzng about too…"

"Ha," John said.

"Shut up," Clara shot back.

Luna folded her glasses away, and went back to reading. John noticed then that the magazine was upside-down. John smiled slightly.

"Do you also read upside-down?"

Luna looked up, and airily said, "Oh, yes. It's a lot more fun, isn't it?"

"Definitely. Can you read backward too? Or upside-down and backward?"

Luna sighed. "I haven't come across a backwards book. Though, maybe I could charm one…"

John pointed at her. "Clara, I'm replacing you. Your duties as my carer or no longer required."

"What? I–"

Luna simply waved it away. "Don't worry, Clara. You can still be his friend. Maybe we can teach you to read upside-down too!"

"Doubt it," John muttered.

" _Oi!_ "


	9. Right or Wrong

*** I'm surprsied I was able to upload this literally right before my ten PM deadline... Sorry, Buzzfeed YT hole... Anyway, enjoy this chapter!**

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The lightning cracked from outside, and Clara was feeling hesitant as to walking off the safety of the train, and into the pouring rain. They had arrived at Hogwarts, and if anything, the rain was even worse.

"Come one," Clara muttered to her friends, including Luna, "We'd better hurry up."

Ginny nodded. "We're gonna catch our deaths out there," she added.

John, who had picked up one of Luna's copies of _the Quibbler_ , paid them no attention. Luna was also engrossed in the magazine. Clara glared at him, hoping her gaze would penetrate his trance. Slowly, John looked up. It was comical, as his eyebrows raised and his mouth form into a line.

"What?"

Clara sighed. "Hurry up, we're getting off the train. I don't want to deal with an angry professor…"

Luna looked up. "Oh!" she said in her light voice, "We're there… I think some nargles must've messed up my thoughts for a second…"

Clara smiled. Luna was odd, but she was quite interesting. "Great but, er, _we have to go._ "

"Yes, yes," said John. "I heard you the first time."

"If you heard me the first time, we would've been out five minutes ago!"

John got up, and literally walked himself out of the conversation; he walked down the hall of the train. "You're not my mother!"

Clara gaped, Ginny chuckled, and Luna hummed. Sighing heavily, the three girls walked out into the rain. Immediately, Clara froze. It was so cold, Clara hadn't expected that. Sometimes rain could be warm, and nice, but this rain felt like pins sticking into your arms and face, with the mad rage of a deranged ice queen.

And people thought Clara was normal.

Nevertheless, she trudged on, with Ginny and Luna by her side. Luna was struggling a bit, as her long hair flew into her face. Ginny was scowling along with Clara. They reached the steps as fast as they could, finally sheltered from the rain.

Ginny gasped. "Clara!"

Sadly, Clara was too late. Peeves, the resident arsehole ghost of Hogwarts, had thought it would fun to drop a water balloon straight onto Clara. It hit the side of Clara's face, for she had stepped out of the way, but she was dripping in cold water.

A few feet away, the same thing occurred to Ron. He yelped loudly in surprise, which seemed to brighten up Ginny's mood, and decide for Clara that they should just push themselves into the Great Hall.

"Peeves! PEEVES!" Professor McGonagall yelled. Luna hummed, and gave a lopsided smile. After a yelling match between the deputy headmistress and a joker ghost, they were all steered away to the Great Hall, with of course Ron cursing audibly enough for Clara to hear.

Luna departed from Clara and Ginny, and headed to the Ravenclaw table, with a skip in her step. Clara found a place to sit at the Gryffindor table, next to John, who had thankfully saved them seats.

John frowned in Clara's direction. "Have you been on any Russian submarines?"

Clara huffed. "What? No! I'm all wet though, of you haven't noticed!"

"I did notice. But everyone here is wet. What I meant was, you look like you just got off a Russian submarine…"

"I don't even want to know John, OK?" Clara sighed. "Blimey, I'm hungry. Hope they hurry up with the sorting…"

Ginny chuckled. She gestured down the golden plates and goblets that adorned the tables. "It's as if they're taunting us; gold to please a man, but _no bloody food!_ "

Clara played with her fork. "That is a great one-liner. Write it down, you could be famous for it."

John was frowning. "Look, they have an empty seat… Who's the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher this year?"

Clara shrugged, "Don't know."

"Sh!" Ginny hissed. "The song's going to start now!"

Professor McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat on a four legged stool, and suddenly the hat sprang to life. It cleared it throat– at least if it had one…

It sang loudly, the song being about each of the four founders. It's finishing lines were " _Now slip me snug about your ears, I've never yet been wrong. I'll have a look inside your mind, And tell where you belong!"_

John coughed. " _Never been wrong_ … Doubt that one," he muttered.

Clara had no idea about that one, but she was too hungry to ask. It had been literal hours since having food in her mouth hole, she needed her sustenance. Food was the one love of Clara's life. And with that line, Clara knew she was going batty.

Finally, there was the booming voice of Dumbledore, " _Tuck in_!" And thanking the food gods, Clara finally got her meal. Clara's stomach growled at the sight of mashed potato.

"Damn," she muttered.

Right as Clara was cutting into her pork, there was a clanging from a bit down the Gryffindor table. Ginny and Clara craned their necks to see.

"There are house-elves _here_? Here at _Hogwarts_?" Hermione shrieked, her face red, and her voice much higher than usual. She was yelling at Nearly Headless Nick.

Clara could really only hear Hermione, and she was making a bit of a scene. By that, Clara meant that half the Gryffindor table was staring intently at Hermione.

"But they do get _paid_ , and _pensions_ , and _sick days_?"

The rest of the conversation was inaudible, but it ended with Hermione not touching her meal once throughout the whole feast.

John sighed. "She's kind of right. It _is_ like slave labour."

Clara looked at him. "She didn't say anything about slaves–"

"Yes, she did. Your auditory organs must be malfunctioning. But, would you eat something that was made by a person who is doing slave work?"

"They're not human though–" Ginny said calmly.

"There was a flash in John's eyes that Clara had never witnessed before. He seemed angry, but it was a different sort of anger.

"They have independent thought, they're able to communicate with us, they're obviously capable of manufacturing objects and food; that counts as a person in my book."

Nodding, Ginny said, "got it."

"So, are you not going to eat your food? Is that it?"

John frowned. "See? That's the problem. You could ask the President of America to not live in the White house because it was built by slaves, or you could stop wearing commerical clothing because many of it is produced in poor countries that are basically doing slave work." He paused. "You could ask all of us to find and build a new Hogwarts, because this castle was 100% built mostly by house-elves. And, people will never do that." To conclude, he took a bit of his beans.

Clara gaped at John. "Wow. Bravo." She clapped silently. "For once, you have the moral high ground."

Ginny also seemed shocked. "Well, I don't know of this _White House_ , but woah. That was, OK, you win."

There was a cry from Ron, "Spotted dick, look! Chocolate gateau!"

Being the immature people they were, Ginny and Clara looked at each other and laughed. John stared with a confused look on his face.

"What's so funny?"

"You wouldn't get it."

Ginny hiccupped. "Ron–said," hiccup, "he said–"

"So!" Dumbledore boomed, cutting Ginny's laughter and snorting. "Now that we are all fed, I must ask for your attention while I give some notices."

John seemed severely interested in whatever Dumbledore had to say. He looked deeply displeased with the food as well, and only ate the mashed potatoes before giving a look of loss of appetite– if that was a thing…

"Our caretaker, Mr. Filch, has asked that the following objects be forbidden; Screaming Yo-yos, Fanged Frisbees, Ever-Bashing Boomerangs, and a total of four hundred thirty more items. Feel free to check it out in Mr. Filch's office."

"Great," John muttered, "Guessing Roman Explosives are banned too…"

"Did the Romans have explosives?" Clara whispered to him.

John looked up with hesitance. "Does Vesuvius count?"

"–It is also my duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not be held this year." Cue the gasps. Ginny dropped her fork, John rolled her eyes, and Clara gaped.

"No bloody way."

"–This is due to an event starting in October, and continuing throughout the school year, I have great pleasure in announcing–"

There was a loud rumbling from the doors of the Great Hall. The doors trembled, and with a horrible blast, the doors banged open.

In one of the most dramatic entrances ever made, stood a man in a black cloak. He lowered his hood to reveal a crown of tousled, dark grey hair. He walked slowly to the teacher's table. He limped, for one leg was definitely a prosthetic.

With a flash of lighting across the charmed ceiling, it revealed some of the man's unpleasant features. Clara wasn't sure she's ever seen such a scarred face. There were deep gashes along his cheek, a bit of his nose was missing, and his eyes– God _his eyes_ – one was small, brown and beady. The other was an electric blue. Clara jumped when the eye rolled around, making Clara reminisce of a marble.

The man approached Dumbledore, and shook his hand. With a cough, the headmaster announced, "May I introduce your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher– Professor Moody?"

Nobody clapped except for Hagrid and Dumbledore, and it was bit odd. John was hypnotized by the man, his eyes round and his eyebrows furrowing together. It was something only John was able to pull off without fail; the angry but intelligent look with a touch of sass.

Clara blinked out of her mind-coma. "Sorry," she whispered to Ginny, "didn't your dad mention him once?"

Ginny nodded. "Oh, yeah!" she whispered back. "The auror!"

"He's an auror?" John said in a regular tone of voice, causing it to echo throughout the hall. Clara froze, and whispered hastily, "Shut up!"

"But–"

" _Sh_!" Clara said desperately.

"As I was saying," Dumbledore continued kindly, "we have the pleasure of hosting the Triwizard Tournament!"

The hall broke into loud chatter. One of the Weasley twin shouted, "You're JOKING!"

"I'm most certainly not joking, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore affirmed. "However, I take it that some of you are unfamiliar with the Triwizard Tournament. My apologies to those who already know, however my explanation to those who don't will be brief."

"Seven hundred years ago, the Triwizard Tournament was established to bring together the three largest European schools; Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. One champion from each school is selected to compete in three different magical tasks. This event normally takes place every five years, however due to the high amount of deaths, the program was discontinued."

"Until today!" John said with fake enthusiasm. "Nobody will get killed or seriously injured. Just, _nobody_."

" _Pipe down, will you!_ "

"We have worked hard to ensure that no champions will find himself or herself in mortal danger. The heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will arrive students and one unknown contestant each, in October. The selection of the three opponents will take place at Halloween."

"Our impartial judge will decide the champion from each school that meet the requirements of being 17 years or older," Dumbledore raised his hand when the hall went beserk. "I have taken the precautions to ensure that none under the age of 17 will be able to submit themselves."

Clara leaned back slightly. "Well John, there goes your chance."

"My chance for what?"

"Hogwarts Champion, I know you love to play hero."

"Do not."

Clara smirked. "You're in Gryffindor, you are _supposed_ to be the hero. Honestly, I'm 99.9% sure that the Hogwarts champion will be a lion."

John frowned. "Well, I'm 100% sure lions aren't allowed to participate, but who knows? Maybe we'll get a Hufflepuff champion."

Clara nearly snorted her drink, but stopped when she met Ginny's glare.

Clara picked at her cold food. "So… Who do you think will be champion then?"

Ginny sighed. "Honestly, I'm just glad it can't be Fred or George. Even Ron! I won't be surprised if either one of my idiot brothers tries to submit themselves…"

Clara nodded in understanding. "Well, I'm happy that it can't be Harry. I think that he's already had too much to deal with at Hogwarts. What do you think, John?"

John shook his head. "Sorry, I was just thinking about how wrong we could all be– and what is Moody drinking?"

Clara craned her neck to see their new professor. "I don't know… Alcohol?"

"No wonder his eye's all messed up," Ginny murmured.

"Yeah!"

Clara noticed John's frown. "What is it?"

"Like I said– We could all be really wrong about this."


	10. Bubotubers– NOT youtubers

*** Little bit of a shorter chapter, but oh well. Have a nice read.**

* * *

It was Monday, first day of classes. John was in the Great Hall with Ginger and Clara. They sat down, looking at their times tables and frowning. John's favourite class was most definitely Arithmancy. Math was the same everywhere, even if they didn't call it that in the Magical world. John was seriously wishing of a physics class offered at Hogwarts, when Clara interrupted his thoughts.

"Here," she said, taking his time table and replacing it with hers, "switch." Her eyebrows furrowed. "No Divination?"

John frunted, "It was awful last year. I can't stand the teacher."

"Finally! Someone agrees!" Hermione exclaimed, plopping her book bag next to Clara. "Trelawney is full of rubbish."

John rolled his eyes. Clara smiled. "Don't expect a response. He doesn't converse."

"I realized. However, social interaction is crucial in understanding how the world works–"

John snapped his head up to meet Hermione's gaze. "Well, you think I don't know that? It's not my fault! I just don't like talking with idiots!"

Hermione glared. "Are you saying that _I'm_ –"

"He's not saying anything," Clara said quickly, while Ginger chuckled. "It's his Scottishness showing through."

Hermione ' _humphed'_ and put some toast onto her bread. She called Harry and Ron over, who had just walked into the Great Hall.

"Double Divination this afternoon," Harry groaned, sitting down.

"Oh, we were just talking about that! You really should've given it up like John and I," Hermione said.

John had fallen asleep with his eyes transfixed on a point of a wall, and when he heard his name, he snapped, "What?"

Clara rolled her eyes at him for what seemed the hundredth time today, and ate some cereal. John instantly brightened; he quite loved the cereal boxes. _Magico's, Pumpkin Pasty Puffs, Irish Charms…_ That one made John laugh out loud. Though, he really hoped that one day he would find some that said " _Magical, Diabetes-Inducing, Sugar-filled, cereal!"_ In all honesty however, he would eat them anyway. Taking a bowl of Irish Charms (laughing silently) he added some sugar, to the complete disgust of all the girls.

"God, John!" Hermione scolded. "Your teeth must just be in a horrible state! Stop eating that right now!" Ron chuckled, then quickly looked away, suddenly interested in his time table. "Just, have some toast and butter. Much healthier."

Ron smirked. "Toast and butter? Wasn't that made by house-elves? Have you given up?"

Hermione, who completely forgot about John in that instant, huffed. "No. I just think that there are better ways of making a stand for their rights."

"Riiiiight. Also, you were hungry," Ron smiled.

"No reason to starve myself."

John frowned. "Lost of people have hunger strikes, where they refuse to eat. Cesar Chavez did it, though to be fair, he did die…" John smiled inexplicably. "He was a lovely man, though."

Hermione perked up. "I've heard of him!"

"You only know of him because he died last year," John countered. "However, that is why you shouldn't eat American grapes…"

Ginger flicked her hair. "We have officially passed the line of where we can ignore what John says and passing it off as his personality; he's _insane._ "

"Am not!" John was severely offended.

Ginger must've noticed his look for she added hastily, "Which you're clearly not. I was just joking…"

They completely forgot about the actual topic at hand, and swarm of eagles poured in through the windows, and they cut through the silence. John wasn't expecting anything, but he noticed Harry instantly perk, and look hopefully (John thought is was hope) at the ceiling.

John wolfed down two bowls of cereal before Clara put a stop to him.

"No more."

John grunted.

Ginger looked a worn watch on her left wrist. "We have class in fifteen minutes."

Hermione gasped. "Really?" She gathered her things, and pulled Harry and Ron along to their first class; Herbology.

"Well, they're gone."

John spread his hand sout. "I know! It's a lot quieter now, too."

Clara frowned. "You really should be getting to class now. You have to walk all the way to the greenhouses–"

John snorted. "And do more work? Amateur."

Clara hit him lightly, and she and Ginger spoke for a bit, before Clara literally pushed him off his seat.

"Go! You have five minutes!"

"Well, yes, but what about you? I don't see _you_ leaving!"

" _We_ don't have class for another thirty minutes!"

"Fine," John muttered, gathering his things. He ran to the greenhouse, arriving a couple minutes late.

"Ah, Mr. Smith," Professor Sprout said sweetly, "how nice of you to join us."

John grimaced. "Thanks for the thanks."

Somebody snickered. Professor Pomfrey scowled. "Five points from Gryffindor. _Watch your tongue in class_ , boy."

John rolled his eyes, and went to his workstation.

"Bubotubers–" Sprout began.

"Youtubers?" John yelped. "Damn."

"That'll be another five points, and _language_!"

After collecting the pus that they had been assigned to gather, (which John even found disgusting) Professor Sprout made them each put it in bottles for Madam Pomfrey.

John this year had decided to take Care of Magical Creatures, only because he found them truly fascinating. They studied skrewts for today's lesson, and they were awful to work with. However, John enjoyed it nonetheless. It was like an adventure.

John ate lunch with Ginger and Clara, then attended Arithmancy with Hermione, though he made sure to sit far away from her. He liked to be alone when he worked. He was quite saddened that at the end of class, Professor Vector was cheery, so they had no homework.

While sitting in the Great Hall, he had the opportunity to observe something horribly wonderful.

"Don't you dare insult my mother, Potter," Malfoy sneered.

"Keep your fat mouth shut, then," Harry said, his voice raised. John thanked himself today for being lazy and sitting next to the Great Hall entrance.

John flinched when there was a BANG! Sound, however he was instantly too intrigued to be worried when Professor Moody entered.

"OH NO YOU DON'T, LADDIE!"

Everybody was quiet, and John sipped his orange juice, pretending it was one of those silly programmes on the telly.

"Did he get you?" Moody panted in Harry's direction.

"No, er, he missed." John had conveniently been disoriented and missed Malfoy barely missing Harry's face with a hex.

"LEAVE IT!" Moody shouted, and John instantly looked at the floor. He winced, a smile was cracking on his face.

"What, sir?"

"Not you, him!" Moody pointed to a white ferret. He pulled out his wand, and the ferret instantly flew ten feet in the air, and then promptly hit the ground with a SMACK! John's smile wavered.

The ferret, who was obviously Malfoy, whimpered in pain after hitting the ground. He when bouncing again, then he hit the stone floor.

"Professor Moody!" McGonagall cried. " _What?_ What're you-"

"Hello, Professor," Moody said calmly.

"What are you doing?"

"Teaching."

"Teaching? Is that a student?" McGonagall seemed horrified, rightfully so. No matter how much John would've loved to be the one causing Malfoy to hit the ground painfully as a ferret, his morality always saved him.

McGonagall immediately waved her wand, causing Malfoy to reappear in his human body, sprawled on the ground. His hair was askew, and his face was tinged pink.

"Moody, we never use transfiguration as a punishment! Surely Professor Dumbledore would've told you that!" McGonagall snapped, albeit with a small voice.

"We give detentions! Or, we speak to the offender! Ot talk to their head of House!" she continued.

"Fine," Moody said calmly. "I'll make sure to do that." He turned toward Malfoy who was standing and muttering about his father. Evidently, Moody heard him.

"Your father eh? Well, I know him! Tell your father: Moody's got a close eye on his son. You tell him that. Now, your Head of House is Snape?"

Malfoy nodded weakly, then with a more powerful posture and voice added, "Yes."

"Very well, then… I have to speak to him too…" Moody literally pulled him along, to presumably, Snape's office.

John wasn't exactly sure what to feel, but he was instantly brightened when Clara and Ginger sat down with him.

"Why're we sitting here?" Clara asked.

"Because it's far away from everybody else."

"Great answer."

Ginger shovelled some food in her mouth. "Well, that was bloody damn amazing."

"Also painful," John reminded.

Ginger dropped her fork. "You're not feeling bad for Malfoy, are you?"

John cocked his head. "No. But, I'm just thinking that he'll have some nasty bruises from that."

"He was a ferret," Clara said, "don't ferrets jump around and stuff?"

"Every single ferret I've seen, _I haven't,_ because they smell awful," John muttered.

"I bet Malfoy does too," Ginger said, laughing.

Clara smiled, then looked away quickly. She ate her food. And John did as well.


	11. Class

***Definitely a longer chapter than ten's... Anyway, I watched "Colonia" with my friends today and it starred Emma Watson (it was the only reason we actually even watched it) but it was a good movie. Sure, there were moments when we shouted, "TOO MUCH EMMA!" but other than that, it was and intense film. Anyway, enough of my stupidities and rants, READ ON!**

* * *

It was a cloudy Tuesday when Clara and Ginny had their first Defense Against the Dark Arts class. For the past few days, they had been hearing great things about their new and mysterious professor– Moody.

Sadly, they had Defense final period, and the two girls had to wait an entire day. The fourth years had yet to have DADA, for they had it on Thursday, and they had made Clara and Ginny promise to tell them everything.

"Tell me everything," Ron practically begged his sister. "Fred and George have been going on about it ever since they had him!"

Ginny swatted her brother away. "Fine! Just leave me alone!" She grabbed some toast and buttered her bread. Ron walked away, sitting with his friends. Ginny ate her breakfast peacefully.

John, looking as though he had just survived a bomb, plopped down next to Clara. His hair was growing out, much messier than usual. His robes were disheveled, with his buttons not done properly.

Ginny laughed at the sight, and Clara had to suppress her amusement, putting on a strict and scolding tone.

" _John_."

"Mhmm?"

"When did you wake up?"

John checked his watch. "About three minutes ago why?"

"Have you seen yourself?" Clara queried.

"I don't have a mirror," John retorted.

"Then buy one," Clara prompted.

"Why? Mirrors are quite useless things to have, unless you're battling vampire fish– in which case, they're extremely useful," John blabbed. "Also–"

Ginny snorted, and Clara cracked a smile. However, she had to cut John off. "John, your hair is a right mess, and your robes are all messed up."

"Well, I can't fix them here, can I?" John snapped.

Ginny perked up, however Clara sighed. "No. Go back to your dorm, and fix yourself up. It's quite embarrassing."

John groaned. "Didn't know my presence embarrassed you."

Clara couldn't really tell if John felt hurt or not, however she passed it off as him just making snappy remarks. "Of course not," she assured him. "You're embarrassing yourself, though."

"My ego doesn't get harmed just because of my fashion sense, and what others think of it," John quipped.

" _John!_ " Clara moaned, quote aggravated at this point. "It's not a matter of fashion! You're a complete mess, goodness! Do you even sleep? Look at the eye-bags! Or your hair! When was the last time you combed? Do you button your shirt while sleeping? Honestly!"

John kind of just stared at her. Which softened Clara up a bit.

"Go on," she said calmly, "Just do it, _please_."

"Fine,"said John. "Though, to be noted, I'm not doing this because you told me to!"

"Of course not."

"I'm doing it because this shirt is _really_ itchy." He walked out of the Great Hall, scratching his arm through the white shirt.

Clara rolled her eyes while Ginny drank some orange juice.

"You guys are hilarious to watch," Ginny noted.

"How come?" Clara asked, making a bowl of cereal for herself. The O's sparkled and exploded with flavour when you bit into them.

"It's like seeing my mum and dad fight, mind you not a big fight. It's funny when married couple bicker."

Clara felt her eyes widen and her cheeks heat up and redden.

"Blimey," Ginny laughed. "John was right about your eyes. They do swell up to an extraordinary size!"

Clara blinked, hoping her body would calm the hell down. _Stop being so embarrassed. My God, he's just a friend._

"Though, I don't think it's John you like," Ginny said sharply.

"What?" _How did this conversation come about_ , Clara wondered.

"In all honesty, I'm not even sure it's a boy you like," Ginny continued.

"Excuse me?"

"Veelas," Ginny reminded her. "Remember? Anyway, not that there's anything wrong with that. But you can tell me–"

"I'm not!" Clara said, her voice raised, which attracted some attention. Then, in a much lower tone she added, "I'm _not_."

"Fine, fine, fine," chuckled Ginny.

After ten minutes, John came back. His robes were much better looking, but there was still room for improvement. However, his hair and face, to be frank, were still looking wild.

"Ah," Ginny said. "Much better."

John gave a flat look and said, "I like this shirt much better; there's no itch."

"Great."

"Well, we'd best be off," Clara said. "We have Potions and I really don't want to piss Snape off."

John gave a disgruntled look. "I used to not mind Snape…" He said it without necessarily telling anybody.

"Well, bye," Clara said. "Also, don't be late for class again! I don't want to lose anymore points for Gryffindor!"

"I'll do my best, no promise."

"M'kay, bye!"

The girls walked together to Potions, which they thankfully had with the Ravenclaws this year. They encountered Luna, and decided to be as gracious and sit with her.

"Oh!" Luna said brightly. "Hello!"

"Hey."

"Haven't seen you lately, sorry," said Ginny.

"Oh, I don't mind!" Luna said with her naturally silvery voice. "I think third-year Gryffindors have Care of Magical Creatures with the Ravenclaws too!"

"Thank goodness," Clara muttered. "So, do you like Potion class?"

Luna gave an airy smile. "It's okay. But I think wrackspurts have invaded Mister Snape's head. He seems very distant. A common side-effect."

" _Mister Snape_?" laughed Ginny.

Luna frowned, which looked weird on her angelic face, "Oh, right. I forgot that Professor doesn't like it when I call him that." Her face brightened, and she went back to doodling on her page.

"That doesn't seem like a good idea," Clara warned, nodding at the pictures of birds and lions on the page that was set on their tables before their professor had even arrived.

"I like it," Ginny said.

"Thank you," Luna said brightly. "But, Clara's right. I'll get in trouble again for doing do."

Clara stuck her tongue out playfully in Ginny's direction, before quickly straightening herself out when Professor Snape walked into the classroom.

Mister– _Professor_ Snape was a weird human being, in Clara's opinion. Clara didn't understand how a person could be so hateful and full of resent. He was like a bat–– Not cool like Batman–– cold, and cruel like a dark, vile creature.

Snape spoke, which was really more of a drawl, "As third year Potion students, I expect no less than exemplary from each and every one of you." His eyes settled on a group of Gryffindors that sat together. His lip curled. "However, I may be mistaken; some of you obviously lack the patience and determination that comes with the success of the art of potion-making. Miss Lovegood?"

Clara turned toward Luna, who had evidently decided that the urge to draw on the page once more was too strong to avoid. Clara gently elbowed her.

Luna looked up slowly, to meet Snape's gaze. She smiled, which Clara was sure she would not have been able to pull off.

"Sorry, Mis– Er, sir. No, not 'mister' _professor_ ," Luna stammered. She smiled again.

Snape obviously wasn't amused. "Miss Lovegood, if you could be as considerate and not," pause, " _doodle_ on the pages I have carefully laid out for my class."

Luna raised an eyebrow in confusion. "Sorry, I just thought the margins looked a bit lonely and blank, so I decided that–"

"Decided to sprawl messy and unorganized lines of ink? Tut tut, what a waste of material."

Luna seemed mostly unaffected, however she blinked and stared right back at their professor. Snape, who seemed to have decided that his little show was over, sauntered back to his desk.

"Twenty points from Ravenclaw." Cue the gasps. Snape glared. "Any noise and it'll be a hundred."

What a _great_ start to the day.

After Potions was herbology with Ravenclaws again–which was fine with all _three_ girls. then lunch. Clara and Ginny sat down, leaving Luana to hop on over to her table, and ten minutes later John joined in. He smelled like something burnt.

"Why is it that everytime I see you, you look like you've just survived a natural disaster?" Clara said, plopping some salad onto her plate.

John gave a pointed look. "It seems like school is a natural disaster."

Ginny smiled. "Who would've thought the day would have come when _John_ begins to dislike school."

"I never liked school! Just the reading, yes, but it's absolutely foul having to listen to people droning on and on about theories for fifty minutes, and then only letting us test them out for ten!"

Clara took a bit of her meal. "So," she said once she swallowed, "what class did you have that made you hate school _even more_?"

John groaned. "Transfiguration."

"What? I thought you liked Trans." Ginny said. She had a quirked up lip.

John was confused. "What? I detest Transfiguration class. It's so easy, and I got in trouble because I set the table on fire. That was only to prove that–"

"You set a table on fire?"

"Yes, but that's not the point–"

"You set a bloody table on fire in McGonagall's class? How are you even alive?"

John shuddered. "Barely."

"How much detention do you have?" Clara asked.

"Um… two weeks."

"Slow clap for you," said Ginny.

After lunch, Ginny and Clara departed. Ginny had decided to take Arithmancy while Clara had taken Ancient Runes.

Ancient Runes was okay, however today's lesson was more so an introduction, and Clara really wanted to see some of the scripts and writings that they would be studying. It was awful however, for the class was shared with the Slytherins this year.

Nonetheless, finally the time had come for Defense Against the Dark Arts class. They were partnered with the Hufflepuffs, which was a blessing by Merlin himself. Clara would've prefered Ravenclaw, but at least it wasn't Slytherin.

All the students sat down, each with their own desk. Ginny sat to Clara's left, next to a wall, while a Hufflepuff boy sat in the table to Clara's right.

Two minutes into class, and Professor Moody still had not arrived. However, at three minutes, he barged in; door flying open like it did in the Great Hall that first day.

"There will be no need for any books today," he growled. Clara instantly plopped her book back into her bag, along with everyone else.

Professor Moody stood at the front of the room, his blue eye moving about. "Now," he declared, "I've received a letter from your Professor Lupin. Second years studied Dark Creatures, some defensive spells, and some others. This year will be much harder, I expect. Perhaps later on this year you will learn of the Unforgivables, however as Dumbledore sees it unfit to show a fresh batch of third years that– we'll settle with some others–" his eyes gleamed, more so the blue one, "– _for now_."

Clara gulped, but kept her gaze steady. She wasn't particularly sure she _liked_ Professor Moody. He seemed very harsh, which was unnerving.

Moody pulled out a spider, brown and hairy. Clara noticed there were whole jars of creatures in his classroom. Some black spiders, some big ants, crickets…

The brown spider was disgusting to look at as it wriggles and scuttled, however with one flick of his wand, a jet of scarlet light, and a " _Stupefy!"_ the spider went limp.

Clara had seen the Stunning Spell before, but she had never performed it herself. It was awe-inducing.

Moody grunted. "Now, there are three known ways to stop the Stunning Spell. Number one, " _Rennervate_." Number two, you can stop the actual effect by using a shield charm, or number three; you simply wait out its affects. Now, some stunners can last longer than others, you could only be stunned for a few seconds. Or it could be minutes or even hours. There have been a couple cases of it being days."

Everyone nodded, and few wrote it down. However, everyone was just so engrossed in the lesson…

"Now, everyone partner up. Come to the front of the classroom and show me your best attempt at the Stunning Spell."

"Er, sir?" the boy next to Clara asked. "How do we do it? What's the wand movement?"

Moody chuckled, and showed the class the movement by manipulating the Hufflepuff's arm. The class was definitely scared of their professor, and the boy rubbed his arm tenderly.

Clara and Ginny of course went together. And they were the fourth pair to attempt the charm. All other pairs had failed, which made Moody shoo them away. He was not patient.

Summoning all her strength, Clara stood at the ready. Their task was to have one partner attempt the charm, and then switch.

It was Ginny's turn first, and she waved her wand hesitantly, before shouting, " _Stupefy!"_ Clara, having a tight grip on her wand was suddenly quite apprehensive. With lightning fast reflexes, she waved her wand and caused the red light to bounce upward and dissolve.

Clara opened her eyes and saw Moody staring at her. Ginny was looking awed, as did the two third year houses.

"And how'd you pull that one off?" Moody grunted.

"I-I just thought you know– protect myself, and waved, It was a point and think sort of thing. Really hadn't expected it to work, though."

"Good job," Moody said. "Best I've seen from someone as you as you. Wordless magic… Hm… What's the Protection Charm?"

They had learned about it last year. " _Protego._ "

"Did you think of that spell?"

 _No. No, she really didn't_. "I think so…"

"Very well, then. Good job," there was no hint of compliment in his voice. "Go on then, show us if you can do the Stunning Spell!"

"Um, ok…?"

Clara raised her wand, and saw Ginny prepare herself. Clara felt a surge of not wanting to hurt her friend, so she fumbled a bit, which caused her to wave her wand and a jet of scarlet light protruded from its end. Thank goodness she had not aimed it at her friend; it his the wall behind her.

This time, Moody seemed much more impressed. "Wordless magic again! From a third year at that…" His complimenting tone really didn't match his physical appearance though. He straightened himself out. "Better aim next time, though."

Clara felt a jolt of pride. "Er, yeah."

"Name?"

"Oswald, Clara Oswald."

"Hm. Ten points to Gryffindor for Miss Oswald's use of non-verbal spells. Twenty points added to that for the success in performing a Protection Charm and the Stunning Spell. And another five for not calling me ' _sir'_ once. " With that, they were shooed away from the centre stage.

Ginny pulled her aside. "Clara!" she hissed. "Have you been practicing?"

"No. I told you: point and think. It works!"

"Maybe for you," Ginny grumbled. Clara noticed just a hint of jealousy in her friend's face. "Oh don't give me that look!" she snapped, though with a smile on her face. "I'm not a dying puppy. Plus, you got us 35 points!"

At dinner, Clara sat down next to John, who seemed annoyed out of his mind.

"Bad day?" Clara asked.

"Well, we lost thirty points because I talked back to Professor Snape," John said with fake brightness.

"Thank goodness Clara got us thirty-five!" Ginny said.

John raised an eyebrow. "Good day for you, then?"

Getting some mashed potatoes, Clara said, "Not sure."


	12. Breath

*** 'Lo there! It's super hot here and I feel like dying! YAAAAY!**

* * *

Thursday had come, and finally the period came when John would have Defense Against the Dark Arts class. John had been intrigued ever since Clara had described to him the events from her class.

"So… It just happened?" John asked.

"Yes! John, how many times do I have to tell you?" Clara said, exasperated.

"You just pointed your wand and _thought?_ "

Ginger nodded. "That's what she keeps telling us. Not sure I believe her though."

Clara sighed. "I'm being serious! This is for real, you know? Actually real! Not vampire-fish stuff! Not fat roaming the streets! And definitely not potato men!"

John stared at her. "Are you _on_ something?"

"No! What I'm trying to say is that I wasn't even sure how I did it! I just pointed and–"

" _Thought_. Yep, got that bit," John muttered.

Ginger smiled. "Well, maybe you'll figure it out at today's Divination class!" She punched Clara's arm playfully.

"I wish I never signed up for that class!" Clara groaned.

"I don't know why you did either," John said. "I quit, remember?"

Clara ate her food glumly. "Well, I thought it would be an easy 'A' so I thought I should give it a try."

Ginny frowned. "An 'A' Why would you only want an Acceptable? Try for at least Exceeds Expectations!"

Clara flushed. "Sorry, 'A' is a Muggle term. It's the highest grade you can get. Well, there's A+…"

"I will never understand Clara, so don't try. You're wasting your time."

John shook his head, he had bumped into a column whiling thinking about lunch's conversation. He was getting off topic and distracted. John walked to Defense class, no doubt late. He entered the room as quietly as possible, only to be met with an angry glare.

"You're late!"

"Really? Hadn't noticed," John muttered. He rolled his eyes.

"Was that an eye-roll?" Moody yell.

"Well, it's not like I can–"

"Silence! Sit down, I don't have time to waste on you!"

"Bipolar this one…" John said to himself. He sat down in the empty seat directly in front of Professor Moody. John wondered why someone didn't take the seat right at the front of the class. It was the best one! You could actually see the blackboard!

"As I was saying," Moody said, "We're gonna be studying curses. I'm supposed to be teaching you counter curses and that's it, but Professor Dumbledore thought you were just at the age to find out about 'em. So? Do you know which curses are most punishable by wizarding law?"

John didn't raise his hand, but he certainly knew the answer. He knew every single one of the curses, and could describe them with ease. Well, not ease for they were awful, but John knew all about them.

Ron surprisingly raised his hand and was called upon.

"Er.. The Imperius Curse. My da told me about it…"

Moody's blue eye spun. "Ah, yes. Gave the Ministry a lot of trouble, that one."

Limping to the jars of animals at the front of the room, he pulled out a large, black spider. He waved his wand, and muttered, " _Imperio!"_

The black spider immediately hopped onto the desk, and got onto it's back legs. It started moving and shaking– it was doing a dance of a sort. John noticed the room had erupted into laughter. He turned around to see that the whole class was laughing, save Hermione, John and Moody.

"Think it's funny, do you?" Moody boomed. "Would it be so funny if it were you?" The class stopped laughing. "I have total control. I could make it jump out of the window, drown itself, throw itself down your throats…"

"But, that's not how humans work," John interrupted, not bothering to raise his hands.

"What?" Moody said, his voice quiet but surprisingly demanding.

John stood up straight. He wasn't going to lie– he was intimidated. "Well, it's just in the human DNA. We have the urge to survive. To live! You can make someone hop like a rabbit, but you can't force someone to kill themselves. Well, unless their own personal urge was to do so– but the point is that human's have too strong of a genetic coding for it to be undermined by some hypnosis!"

The class was silent, Moody seemed to be in a contemplative trance. "Well, then. That's certainly true about hypnosis, but does this look like any form of hypnosis?"

"Yeah, kind of! Little Bit!"

Moody growled, _growled._ Even john could tell that he wasn't pleased. "Mr.–"

"Holmes," John answered, and the class burst into laughter.

"Kindly do tell me your name!" Moody bellowed.

John cringed. "Smith, John Smith. You may refer to me as 'Double-O Seven'" In all honesty, John had no idea where his new found attitude was coming from. He just said what was on his mind with no filter.

" _Smith,_ that's already earned ya detention! _With me_!"

"Oh, I thought it was going to be Mr. Babbity-Rabbity. Evidently, I was incorrect."

Moody growled again, and leaned in close in John's face. "You'll watch your tongue in my class. I'm an ex-auror, I've dealt with far worse than you."

John had to resist the urge to say "No, you really haven't" but was met by a strange, pungent scent coming from Moody's breath. Something twitched inside John which made him know that it wasn't just a matter of not brushing his teeth.

"Yes, sir," John said with two-fingered salute. Moody seemed confused with the gesture, and backed off.

"No more funny business. You may just be an example for the class."

John rolled his eyes. "Great, now could we get things _rolling._ "

Moody's false, blue eye spun like mad. His proper brown eye winced. "Now that _that's_ done, can anyone tell me any other curse?"

Less hands went up this time, however surprisingly Neville Longbottom's hand went up, albeit a bit tentatively.

"There's the uh– Cruciatus Curse," Neville squeaked. John was intrigued as to how the male voice could travel two octaves above average.

"Your name's Longbottom, right?" Moody said gruffly, blue eye still fixed on John.

Neville nodded, while Moody turned back to his desk and removed another spider. This time, he used an Enlargement Charm on it.

"It needs to be a bit bigger, for you to understand…" John braced himself. He was pretty sure what was going to happen next, though he had never witnessed it personally.

Moody muttered, " _Crucio."_

Immediately, the large spider twitched and rolled around on the desk horribly. There was no sound, but John could tell it was in immense pain. Grabbing his desk firmly so that he didn't punch their professor, he cursed under his breath. Thankfully, Granger saved him.

"Stop it!" She said shrilly.

John saw her looking not at him, but at Neville. Neville seemed just as much affected by the curse as John did, if not more.

Moody stopped, the spider was reduced to its normal size. "Pain doesn't need to be inflicted by using knives or thumbscrews. You can torture someone just by using the Cruciatus Curse… Very popular, that one…"

John gulped. He felt a tingling up his back, and every hair of his seemed to be on edge. Sharp intakes of breaths were taken in, and with every on it felt like a million sharp needles were puncturing his throat.

"Anyone know the last one?"

John barely even noticed Hermione's whisper, " _Avada Kedavra."_

Another breath.

Moody didn't even respond. He just walked over to the third and final spider; removed the cap and performed the curse.

" _Avada Kedavra!"_

Breath.

There was a blinding, green light. John winced and observed as the spider fell down rigidly onto its back, as it went flying onto Ron's desk.

 _No more breaths_ , John thought. Never again would the spider even breathe.

"Not nice," Moody said in a tone that was almost laughable. "There's no countercurse, no blocking it. And there's only one person known to have survived it; he's sitting with us right here today."

John turned toward Harry, and perhaps for the first time showed any sympathy for him. John could feel in his stomach what it was like to live again…

Moody was speaking again, and John felt his near 0 respect for him decline further and further.

"–You've got to know! CONSTANT VIGILANCE!"

John jumped, having missed part of Moody's talk.

"Any of those three Unforgivables will get you a one-way ticket to Azkaban. But, you need to know what you're up against. You need preparing. You need to practice _constant vigilance._ Write that down!"

The class was silent, all there was was the sound of quills against parchment. All John had was a big blob of ink, a broken quill, for he had pressed the tip of it against the parchment for much too long.

The bell rang, and John briskly walked out of the classroom, and into the Great Hall. He sat down, definitely away from others, and ate.

Clara and Ginger joined him later. Clara seemed glum, but still had that air of cheeriness.

"So… How was Defense?" She asked pluckily.

"Awful."

Clara seemed surprised. "How do you mean _awful_?"

Wincing, John said, "We learned about the Unforgivables today."

Ginger gasped, Clara's eyebrows rose, but she said nothing for a few seconds.

"Did you see–?"

"Yes."

"Oh." Clara too an intake of breath. "All of them? Including–"

"Yes."

"Oh. I'm so sorry, John. For once, I'm glad you got to skip ahead," said Ginger, while patting his back carefully. John shot her a look, which quickly made her remove the hand.

"I've also got detention," John added. "There's the good news."

Clara frowned. "How is detention good?"

John sighed. "Clara, I would rather my full year just be detention that have to go through that class again."

"Well, now my horrible day doesn't seem so horrible," Clara said with a half-smile.


	13. Everything's Alright

*** Hm... What have I done these past days... Maybe watched all three _'Very Potter Musicals'_ in one day... Hahaha it seemed like a good idea at the time... *cries* Also, they're getting rid of Doctor Who on Netflix in Canada, which was funny for me when it happened in the states, but now.. Not so much.**

* * *

Thursday night had been a tough one. Between John's somber attitude and Clara's day, it was awful to put it lightly.

"I don't understand," John had said in the common room an hour after dinner. "What happened?"

Clara sighed. "I already told you. Trelawney's just being weird again."

John frowned. "Tell me again."

"John! If you're not going to listen–"

Ginny broke the argument. "Don't worry, I'll say it. I'll even add some Ginny pizazz." She smiled, and folded her hands together. "So, we went to Divination, and we sat down and all that stuff, and she told us to get the teacups out."

"Yeah, I got that bit from last time, thank you," John muttered.

Ginny glared. "Anyway, then we did the whole tealeaf process, and Clara looked at my cup, which by the way said that I would become homeless and live with a mouse, but that's different. Then, I looked at Clara's cup, and I thought it read: _You have a large heart._ I took it as a feely thing, not like an actual heart. Then I read some more: _You are friends with the crows, and you will live forever."_

John nodded. "OK, so that's what you read… What did the hippie say?"

"That's rude," Clara interjected.

John scoffed, "Welly sorry if I forgot her name."

"Anywaaaaay, Trelawney and 'helped' us out. But, she looked at the cup and sort of lost it," Ginger continued. "She said: _Your heart is on its final tick, the raven flies, and you will both live and die."_

Clara stared at the ground. It was difficult to grasp. Perhaps the teacup was referring to last year's events with the Dementors… And she been having these dreams with ravens…

"It's all rubbish. Must be," Clara concluded hurriedly.

John stroked his ever-longer hair. "Must be…"

Ginny smiled fakely. "This is exactly how I want to end my day: with a death prophecy!"

"Shut up! It was not a prophecy! She's just a fake you know," Clara huffed.

Again, they were interrupted. This time by Hermione.

"Could I just have a minute of your time?"

"Uh… sure…" Clara sid.

"No," John muttered simultaneously.

Hermione ignored him. "I was hoping you would be willing to join S.P.E.W. Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare. Here's a button for two sickles."

John looked at the button. " _Spew?_ "

Hermione huffed. "Not _spew!_ S-P-E-W!" Her face went pink, and she pursed her lips. "All proceeds will go to funding a campaign to raise awareness."

Clara smiled. "I think it's a great idea!" she pulled a couple sickles out of her pocket, "Here. I'll put the pin on my bag."

Ginny however seemed less enthusiastic about the idea. "Well, the elves like it, don't they?"

Hermione's face reddened again. "That's like saying _Elves like slave work!_ Of course they don't!"

John handed her four sickles. "Here. Ill pay for Ginny's. I don't need a pin though."

"Neither do I," Ginny interjected. She was met with a raised eyebrow. "What? I genuinely don't need the pin."

Hermione bit her lip once more. "Well,, thank you! And be assured that all the money will be used for good of promotion of Elfish Welfare!" She skipped off. Ginny shook her head.

"I'm just not accustomed to even needing a House-Elf! Mum does all the work…"

Days later, there was a crowd around a particular sign right outside the entrance hall. Ginny and Clara had been in search of John, who had missed his second period class. Ginny squealed with excitement.

"Oh Merlin! They're coming next week! The Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students…" The two girls pushed their way into the school, where they found where John had been hiding.

John was sitting in the corner of the common room, reading furiously. About every thirty seconds he would turn the page.

"Skimming doesn't count as reading, John," Clara reminded him, sitting criss-cross on the floor with Ginny.

John didn't look up. "Hm?"

Clara laughed shakily. "John? Are you okay…?"

John nodded, but didn't look at his friends. Ginny placed a hand on the book, gently tugging it out of his hands.

"Hey!"

Ginny was startled, but she recovered. "John… Seriously, are you okay?"

John looked beaten. His hands were white, his eyes bloodshot, his breathing erratic. "I'm… Fine…"

Clara shook her head slowly. "No, you're really not. John, what happened?"

John laughed bitterly. "Defense."

Clara cocked her head. "Look, I know that Moody's tough, but–"

"Clara, he imperiused the class."

Ginny and Clara gasped. "What?" Clara said. "What do you mean–"

"I mean, as a lesson he performed the Imperius curse on the class!"

Ginny frowned. "Are you okay.. I mean, my brother is in your class and he seems fine."

John wrinkled his nose. "The Imperius doesn't affect me like it does everyone else…"

"Now I'm scared, John," Clara said. Ginny nodded along.

"When he performed the curse on the others– they seemed peaceful," John began. But when it was my turn, I was able to fight it off by instinct. It didn't really affect me, but I heard this weird thumping sound." He looked up. "Four beats. And I could feel it too, my pulse. And it was like taking a drug, not being under a curse."

Clara gaped. "My stars… You should go to Pomfrey!"

"No," John snapped. "There's something going on, and I'll never figure it out if I have some school nurse meddling with my head."

"What? That doesn't even make sense, John!" Ginny sighed.

"No doctors or nurses or healers, or anything!"

"Fine, then!" Clara snapped back. "Deal with it alone. Come on, Ginny." She glared back at John. "By the way, the exchange students are coming next week on the 30th of October"

"Great. I don't know why you expect me to care, but okay," John said lamely.

There was a sudden surge in Clara's chest. She wanted so badly to just yell and blow her top. Taking a deep breath, and calming down a bit she added, "Very well. Just, if you need anything–"

"My goodness! Just go, you already said you would! Make up your mind!"

" _Excuse–"_

Ginny tugged at her arm. "Clara, let's go."

"No."

Ginny glared at her, which was something that usually occurred only in playful situation. Clara had never really known just how scary Ginny Weasley was. There was probably more of Mrs. Weasley in Ginny than even her ginger friend realized.

"Fine," Clara replied sharply, turning on her heel and walking away with Ginny briskly.

Throughout the week, there was an abundance of chattering amongst the Hogwarts community. All students were talking about was the Triwizard Tournament, who would try for champion, and what the other schools were like.

"Oh, my sister knew a Beauxbatons alumni! She said that they spoke _French_ ," a girl said haughtily. Clara smirked.

"Wow. Big surprise," Clara muttered under her breath. Evidently, the girl heard, and she turned and glared at Clara. Clara simply responded with a departure of the scene.

Professor McGonagall definitely cracked down on them that week.

"For the love of all that is good! Do not announce to the other schools that you can't even transfigure a rat into a _goblet!_ "

The Gryffindor girl in Clara's year blushed and squeaked, "I won't."

As Clara was walking to the common room with Ginny, they passed a line of portraits that were rubbing their person. Apparently getting scrubbed and cleaned was painful.

And finally, the day had arrived– October 31st. The Great Hall had been decorated in the school colours, the halls had been swept and polished, and the students were loud and being as obnoxious as possible. Wonderful.

"Into lines!" McGonagall announced. The students scrambled behind their Head of House to form, hopefully, neat lines of welcome and cheer.

Clara felt a push at her side.

" _Hey_ – oh."

"Sorry," John muttered.

"What are you doing here?" Clara hissed. "Thought you didn't care!"

John scowled. "I was forced to attend. McGonagall said we had to look as one in perfect harmony and unison, which doesn't make sense. Because harmony is having two parts be played at once, while unison–"

"Oh!" A girl said loudly. And _oh_ it was.

In the sky shone a beautiful, baby blue, horse-drawn carriage. It was larger than a family home, and Clara had no idea how the winged horses were able to pull the carriage along.

At first, Clara thought of the horses as amazing and graceful, but when they landed on the ground rockily, she realized otherwise. The horses were gold, but their eyes shone crimson red. Then, after the carriage stopped rocking, a nervous boy popped out.

Clara smiled, finding the boy to be cute. He had to be eleven, but it was just adorable how– Clara had no idea what she was thinking; her mind sometimes did this. She would find the oddest things appealing. Once, when she had been feeling particularly blue, she had the sudden urge to pop the cork off of a wine bottle. But, she had never even _had_ alcohol, except for the one time her dad had let her drink a sip. But she had found the taste bitter and horrid…

Clara was snapped back to reality as John snorted. Ginny, who was beside Clara gasped. Clara looked up to see the largest woman Clara had ever witness step down the staircase of the carriage. She was the same height as Hagrid. _Hagrid!_

As she stepped into better light, Clara realized that this giant woman was not necessarily ugly. In fact, she was quite handsome– not beautiful or pretty– but definitely attractive.

Dumbledore welcomed her, and Madame Maxime beckoned for her students.

Dozens of late-teen students waltzed out of the carriage, only to have their faces turn white and their bodies to shake in the cool weather. Clara was suddenly very appreciative of her coat. She saw that John had none, however.

"Aren't you even a little cold?" Clara asked.

John gave a look of confusion. "It's cold? No…"

"The lake!" By now, the Beauxbatons students had gone inside for the warmth, and there was a great disturbance in the lake. A large, wooden mast appeared from beneath the once-still lake. A magnificent ship rose slowly, finally anchoring itself and releasing its passengers. Bulky characters hopped out of the ship, but as they neared, Clara realized that their added size was due to the heavy fur coats that they donned. A man, who was dressed differently in that he was in a silver coat, led the pack of students.

"Viktor… Come along to the warmth.. Yes," the man smiled his yellow teeth. "Viktor here has a bit of a cold…"

The boy– Viktor walked to… Dumbledore mentioned… Karkaroff. That was it! Viktor walked– Wait! That looked suspiciously like–

"Oh my God! It's Viktor Krum!" Ginny said. The group of students that surrounded Clara broke into talk.

John groaned. "I left the comfort of ' _I Clavdivs'_ for this?" John shook his head. "He's not even that great of a player. He obviously doesn't know the first _thing_ about physics and aerodynamics–"

A Gryffindor around them huffed. "Krum is the best Seeker in the world. He can play much better than you. Stop making stuff up about _aroducks,_ okay?"

" _Aer-o-dy-nam-ics,"_ John snapped.

Clara couldn't help it, she smiled. John stopped mid-sentence and look at her.

"What is wrong with your face? It's gone all wide! Are you okay?"

Clara and Ginny laughed. Clara heard something along the lines of 'dumb arse' escape Ginny's lips.

Clara ruffled John's hair. "No, I just realized right now how wonderfully ridiculous you are."

"Thank you," John said sincerely.

"Your welcome," Clara said, hoping that she might be able to finally break the pattern of arguing with John so often. "Now, I'm cold and hungry. Let's go in, please."

"Amen," Ginny said.

"It's cold?" John asked.

The trio walked back to the castle, silently but with smiles glistening on their faces. Perhaps everything was going to be alright.


	14. The Coming of Age

"Have you got a quill, Ginny?" Clara asked. The ginger shook her head. Clara turned toward John.

"No, why?"

Clara groaned. "I want to get Krum's autograph"!

John frowned. "Why though? You didn't even cheer for Bulgaria… If anything you were just after the Vee–"

Clara's face became an unnatural red colour, and she hissed, "Will everyone just stop talking about that!"

"Nope," Ginger muttered.

Clara rolled her eyes and sighed. "I just want to get the autograph of a professional Quidditch player, is that so much?"

"I didn't know it was anything," John said truthfully.

The three of them walked back to the Great Hall, and sat down. The Beauxbatons students had decided to sit with the Ravenclaws, while the Durmstrang accompanied the Slytherins. The giant lady (John could not for his life remember her name) appeared alongside Dumbledore next to the teacher's' table, and suddenly the Beauxbatons students lept to their feet. Some Hogwartians laughed at that.

"Is this the military?" John muttered under his breath. He was half expecting the Durmstrang students to salute.

Dumbledore spoke a bit, but John didn't pay much attention. He was looking at the two chairs added at the end of the table. Maxime and Karkaroff already had their seats, which meant that someone else was coming… _Two_ somebody's…

The food appeared on the table, and Clara made a gagging sound. John instantly looked at her in alarm.

"Wha–"

"What is that?" Clara pointed to a black pudding that was lumpy.

John cocked his head. "Er, that's beef and kidney suspended in a sort of black pudding–"

Ginger wrinkled her nose. "Why is it here though?"

John shrugged. "I don't know. I'm not the chef at this school. And let me tell you that if I was, we would only be having bananas and chocolate."

"You would get fat," Clara muttered.

"Correction, we would _all_ get fat. Honestly, where's a P.E. teacher when you need one? Clara, don't you know one?" He looked at his friend expectantly.

"No…?"

Ginger waved her hand. "Hello! Severely ignored friend here! What's _P.E?_ "

John made a sour face. "Really awful. It's basically just military training but toned down–"

Clara sighed. "No, John. It's not. P.E. stands for 'Physical Education–"

" _Ew!"_ Ginny exclaimed.

"No! Not like that!" John said, "That's _Health_ class. Basically though, P.E. is where you run around, do some push-up, stretching–"

"Oh!" said Ginny. "That seems fine."

"For some," John grunted. "I can take the running, but my old body _can not_ handle the flexibility test."

Clara, who's mouth was full said, "John, you're _thirteen_. You're just unathletic."

A Beauxbatons girl appeared at their side. "Are vous needing vous bouillabaisse?"

John shrugged. "You can have it," he passed it to her. The girl smiled briefly, before turning on her heel and walking back to the Ravenclaw table.

Ginger broke the silence. "Ha! Knew it! Clara's–"

"Would you just _shut up?_ " Clara said loudly, attracting some attention.

"Did I miss something?" John asked.

Ginger laughed. "Hell yes! Clara was ogling the girl!" A few students around them chuckled.

" _Shut up!"_

"She's just hormonal," John explained. " _She's thirteen."_

"Excuse me?" Clara said vehemently. "That's crossing the line!"

Ginger nodded. "Actually, you're right. We don't need a, er, _P.E_. class–"

"Health," Clara and John corrected at the same time.

"Whatever."

"I'm going to kill you both," said Clara slowly and venomously.

"You'll have to save that for later," John cut. "Look at who has come…"

The three of them all turned their heads to catch a glimpse of the two new people arriving. Ludo Bagman and Bart Crouch. John had learned their names later, but there those two men were.

John stabbed at some French food while keeping his gaze fixed on the two men. "What are they doing here?"

Ginny answered, "Oh, Dad said that we might see them. Didn't understand it when he said it, I just thought that, you know, they work at the Ministry and stuff. But, also, some kid told me that they're organizing the event."

Dumbledore rose. "The moment has come for the Triwizard Tournament to begin." There was utter silence. Dumbledore smiled, "Before we bring out the casket, I would like to introduce to you: Mr. Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Cooperation." Mentally, John was keeping notes. "And of course, Mr. Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports."

"Do they have magical rugby?" He asked, louder than was passable as just ' _talking to yourself.'_

A few other laughed, but John could see Bagaman raise an eyebrow in confusion.

"Mr. Bagaman and Mr. Crouch will judge the champions on the panel along with myself, Madame Maxime, and Professor Karkaroff."

John's interest heightened with the mention of the 'champions' and he instantly perked.

"The casket, if you will Mr. Filch," Dumbledore boomed.

Filch stumbled in with a wooden crate encrusted with jewels. It was awe-inspiring. The oldness of the crate did not seem to match the sparkle that the jewels kept.

"––The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector," there was a pause in which there was absolute silence, in which you could practically feel the turn of the earth, where you could hear the howls of the dogs of Hogsmeade, where you could taste the sweat and dust that was in the air. "The Goblet of Fire!"

Dumbledore walked to the chest and pulled out a seemingly, ordinary-looking, wooden goblet. There was, of course the matter of electric, blue flames that danced around the rim, of course. Dumbledore closed the casket, and placed the goblet on top.

"Any aspiring champions must submit themselves within twenty-four hours. You must write your name, clearly I might add, on a piece of parchment, and then drop it into the goblet." John cracked his knuckles, whose sound was clear throughout the Great Hall in the silence. Dumbledore however, continued. "On Halloween, the goblet will return the names of the three most judged worthy of championship."

"To all those who are underage, I will be drawing an Age-Line around the goblet. Nobody under the age of seventeen will be able to cross the line."

"Oh, yeah, forgot about that one," john muttered.

Clara chuckled. "Oh, you _so_ want to enter."

John hissed back, "There's a chance that you'll die if you enter, serious injury, I'll be missing classes, and it's probably all just a money scam."

Whispering back, Clara said, "John, you would love to put yourself in anything that dangerous or reckless; it's who you are. Second, when did you even start giving a damn about classes? Also, if you win, you get _paid_ "!

John had to admit, his friend knew him well. He wasn't going to admit it to her, but he was slightly, _no,_ moderately, _no_ , definitely wanting to put his name in the goblet.

The whole spiel ended, and they were dismissed. John, Clara and Ginger sat up headed toward the door only to be blocked by a mass of people.

"What's happening?" Clara asked.

John huffed. "Why are you so short? Maybe if you were taller, you'd be able to see."

Clara clearly took offense. "Well, you're obviously larger than I am! What's happening?"

John sighed, and jumped up to see what was causing the holdup. His shoulders slumped. "Oh, that's interesting. Very interesting."

"What?" Ginger said irritably.

"Seems like Karkaroff knows of Moody. They're having an argument…"

Clara pouted. "I _really_ wish I were taller."

* * *

The next day was Saturday, and John got ready particularly early. Clara and Ginger had told him that he had to be ready to see who put their name in the goblet. While putting on his trousers, John wondered how it would be if he were 17. Perhaps he would've entered, John wasn't sure. Whenever John looked at himself in the mirror though, he couldn't quite believe it was him. John squinted whenever he looked at himself; his eyes were too old, John realized.

There were no wrinkles on his face, or any other part of his body. But his _eyes._ They had a certain aura of antiquity and age. Perhaps that was why John was always grumpy.

He walked down to the Great Hall, which only had around twenty people milling around; it was quite early. He noticed Clara sitting with Ginger and the Harry Potter Gang. Scowling, he walked up to her.

"You made it," Clara said glumly.

"Don't seem so surprised," John retorted.

"Did it!" Fred said, entering the Great Hall with George. The twins ran up beside John so that they could talk to Harry. "We've just taken an Aging Potion," he practically squealed.

John felt his heart thump. Perhaps that _would_ work! He kept his natural scowling demeanor, however. "Aren't you going to try it"!

"You bet we are!" George announced, and they wrote their names on parchment, and ran up to the goblet. Fred went first, hopping in. George immediately followed after. They dropped their names in, and for several seconds everyone thought that they had succeeded. And then with a loud _POP_! The two twins were flung across the room with long white beard that could rival that of Dumbledore's.

The twins were sent to Pomfrey's under Dumbledore's personal order. After about twenty minutes, John had eaten three bowls of sugary cereal and was quite hyper. John's leg was causing the his seat to twitch, which made him nervous, which caused him to twitch his leg. Endless circle.

The Beauxbatons students all entered their names with frilly, blue paper. Clara nudged his shoulder.

"Wanna try?" she asked.

" _No,_ did you see what happened to Fred and George?"

Ginger laughed. "Serves them right for being so daft. As if you could fool Dumbledore."

Hermione, who sat beside Ginger nodded. "Yes, and you're only thirteen Clara. Much too young."

Clara put a hand to her heart. "I'll be fourteen in a month!"

"Still too young," Hermione sang.

"I honestly wouldn't want to," Harry said.

Ron gasped. "What? Harry? Eternal glory!"

Clara laughed. "Eternal glory? Please, that's a joke. You shouldn't want to enter for the glory. You should enter for the fun of it! The adventure. Also, can you remember the last Triwizard Champion?"

Ron scoffed. "That was centuries ago."

"They said _eternal._ Forever, infinitely," Clara chasitized. Ron spluttered. Clara continued, "Besides, I really want to at least try. John?"

John laughed sourly. "No. Much too dangerous."

Clara punched him lightly. "Come on! Where's your sense of adventure?"

"I lost it over the many times I've almost been killed."

Harry frowned. " _When?_ "

John snorted. "You were the main cause of me almost dying, Harry Potter."

Harry's face went as red as a tomato. Clara kicked him in the shin.

"Ow! Clara!"

Ron muttered, "Low blow, low blow," under his breath. John wasn't sure whether or not Ron knew that everyone could hear him.

Clara brushed her hair out of her face. "I'll do it myself." She stared intently at the goblet. "I think it'll work. It _should_ work."

Ginger made a sound of confusion. It was kind of a soft yelp. "What are you talking about?"

John had a tugging feeling in his gut. "Now, really!" He said as Clara got up, and headed toward the goblet. "This really isn't the job for you, Clara. It's probably for that Diggory guy that tried."

"I want a career too, you know," Clara said chuckling. She walked slowly to the goblet, taunting John. He itched so bad to join her.

"Clara, stop being so reckless!" Hermione called after her, getting up from her seat and trying to pull her back. Clara was now mere steps away from the goblet. Her eyes reflected the gold Age-Line, making them look ablaze.

"One... " she said loudly, so that all could hear. "Two…" Oh, where were the professors? "Three!" She jumped over the golden line, and landed safely in the circle. Two seconds… Five seconds… Ten seconds…

"Did it!" She said, pumping her fist. The Great Hall was silent.

Clara beamed, and John was absolutely shocked. Clara smiled, waved her hand at the students, and jumped out of the circle. There was applause; Clara bowed, and skipped back to her seat with Hermione in tow.

"How did you…" Ron faltered. "But that's not possible!"

"No, it's not," John noted.

"Tell me how you did it!" Ron begged.

"How, Clara? How?" Ginger queried.

"You wouldn't be able to do it," Clara said. "It was an experiment, only works on me."

Hermione frowned. "Then, why did you want John to join you?"

Clara smiled devilishly. "Because, if I failed, I wanted someone else that everyone would laugh at. Though, I decided to just take a risk, obviously."

Ron was on his knees. "Tell me!"

"I can't!" Clara laughed. "Sorry."

Hermione's scowl seemed to be etched on her face permanently. "I think I'll get the S.P.E.W. badges for Hagrid," she muttered, "still haven't asked him." And she walked away.

Harry was scratching his hair. "You are quite surprising."

Clara smiled, which caused an unnatural and sort of vindictive feeling towards Harry to form in John's chest. It wasn't even like John fancied Clara; he just didn't think that Harry was _good_ enough. John was not stupid. He was maybe an idiot, but he was still above the average IQ. He could almost understand the teenage mind, and he was sure that there were some chemicals spurring in the air.

Ron was begging once more, along with Ginger.

"Come on!" Ginger plead. "I'm your best friend!"

Clara laughed it off, but John couldn't help but notice that the reflection of the Age Line seemed scarred in her eyes faintly. Her pupil was now surrounded by a thin, gold ring that was almost unnoticeable. But John was attentive.

After the commotion had died down, and fewer and fewer students stopped asking Clara for her secret, Harry and Ron had left with an annoyed Hermione to meet Hagrid. Luna Lovegood had joined them, and was now talking with Ginger.

John stared at Clara, which caused her to laugh shakily.

"What?"

"Could you at least tell me how you did it? Because you seemed so sure that you would pass."

Clara smiled. "I don't know. I have no trick, to be honest. Something just told me that it would work. I don't know, maybe the goblet was too strong for Dumbledore's spells, and let me through. I might've been worthy." She laughed again.

John shook his head. "No, because you also seemed sure that it would work for _me_. How?"

Clara frowned. "I… Don't' know… Funny how the thoughts just fly away, you know?"

"Clara, this is serious," John hissed. "You just broke a spell made by Dumbledore. Bloody Dumbledore."

"You don't say ' _bloody'_ I've never heard you say that," Clara said.

"Well, unless you're more cooperative I'm going to have to force it out of you, Clara," John said sternly.

"Damnit, John! I don't know how it happened! It just _worked._ "

"You're not 17."

"I know that!" And there it was, the falter in Clara's speech. Her voice quivered, and John saw her left hand twitch, and her right hand flick her short hair back.

 _I forgot how difficult teenagers were._


	15. Champion

***Heyyy I'm back! Basically, my week-and-a-half long absence was due to me wanting more people to read the story. I wanted some viewers to get to know the story before it gets too long, because God knows that I sometimes look over long fanfics. Anyway, I just found out what my official Pottermore Patronus is... I have a wolf! Yaaaaassss! If you haven't, sign up for Pottermore because it's cool AF. Sorry for the long AN. Read on! :)**

* * *

It had been half a day since Clara had pulled her little 'stunt,' and people were still asking her how she did it, in hopes of having a last-minute chance of entering. At one point, Professor McGonagall had pulled her over and given Clara a stern lecture.

"Miss," Clara interrupted. She received a glare. " _Professor_ , I didn't do anything! I'll go to Pomfrey if you want me to, but you will find no evidence of potions or charms!"

"Then how do you explain you walking past the Age Line?"

Clara shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I was sort of pushed in, and I walked back out. I had no intention of submitting myself into the contest–"

McGonagall cut her off. "Miss Oswald, from what I have seen, you are an extraordinary student. Your comprehension of some theories is unlike most of the students your age. However improbable, I'm sure that with the right research, it is possible you managed a little _magic_ here." Clara opened her mouth, but McGonagall continued. "In all honesty, your skills are remarkable. Do not think I don't keep a close tabs on my students, especially those under my house. From James Potter and his fancies, to Harry Potter and his Invisibility cloak, which I am sure you already know of– to _you_."

Clara narrowed her eyes. "And what exactly is it that you know of me?"

Professor McGonagall straightened her hat. "You are an intelligent girl, however I hope you use your smarts in class rather than silly little _tricks._ I am most displeased with your behaviour as to not telling me _what you did_ , but rest assured I will get to the bottom of this conundrum. Now, off to dinner." McGonagall shooed her away.

Having only taking a few steps, McGonagall called back, "And I'd better _not_ hear your name be announced."

Sighing, Clara walked to the crammed Great Hall and sat down next to her friends. Ginny had saved her a seat, which was quite nice of her. John was staring intently at her face– something he was doing more often. Quite unnerving, Clara had to admit.

"Hello," Clara said with fake cheer.

John grimaced. "So… How did your talk with Catwoman go?"

Clara ignored the question. "Catwoman… I like that." She smiled, and clapped her hands, "New nickname!"

John raised an eyebrow. "I meant the teacher," he snapped his fingers. "What's her name again?"

Ginny laughed. "Mate, she's been your teacher for two years, starting three!"

John stared out into the distance. "McDonald's… No… Mickey… Wrong person… McQuaig, maybe? GoggleGoggle? McGoggleGoggle! There we go!"

Clara smiled, and Ginny laughed. " _McGoggleGoggle,"_ she gasped between breaths.

"Yes, wells she just gace a sten talking. Nothing much. Though, there is the issue about Harry's Invisibility Cloak."

"Did he lose it?" John asked.

"No."

"Oh. Well I just thought because it was invisible, that he lost it."

"He didn't _lose_ it, John," Clara sighed.

"Oh, did he leave it on the floor and McGoggleGoggle tripped? Is that what happened?" Ginny laughed, and John gave her a confused glance. "I am genuinely concerned for McGoggleGoggle's health."

"Shut up," Clara said, though she was smiling. Her smile faltered. "No, _McGonagall's_ fine. Just, told me that my name better not be chosen."

John nodded, with his mouth full. He gulped heavily. "Thank goodness. We could have been dealing with a disaster if you'd entered. You're only a young girl!"

Clara crossed her arms. "I understand how may age is an issue, but my gender?"

"Oooh, you're in for it now," Ginny muttered.

Turning a slight shade of pink, John stuttered, which would never fail to amuse Clara. "No, it's just–"

"Just _what_?"

John gave her a surprised look. "You could die if you entered," he said slowly. "It's happened to others before."

"I know, and I didn't enter, so don't worry!" Clara let go of her breath. "Also, the death thing is why they raised the age of acceptance!"

John frowned. "No, I meant that people die and it would be disastrous if you did too. Not necessarily from cause of the Tournament." He looked up at the ceiling for a second, then back down at his still-full plate.

Ginny saved the Clara from the awkward situation. "Weeelllll I'll be damned! People die! Isn't that a lovely conversation for the dinner table?"

"Blame John," Clara snapped.

"I'm simply stating a mere fact!" he paused. "There. Thousands of people just died! One second, that's all it is, and there are thousands of less people left in the universe. Forgive me if I was just expressing my concern for a friend's mortality!"

Ginny looked outstanded, however Clara was not pleased.

"Thousands of people a second? You are joking."

"You're right. Millions," John snarled back.

"There are only 7 billion people on this planet–"

John laughed bitterly. "Clara, it's 1994, there are only 5.614 billion people!"

Clara was confused. "No… Last time you told me, there were 7.2 billion people–"

"Am I the only who is wondering how you even know how many people there are?" Ginny said. "I'm pretty sure no wizard has come up with that spell."

"People are constantly counting out there in the technology side of things," John said simply.

"Ooh! Techolongy! " Ginny exclaimed.

" _Technology,"_ John corrected.

"Yeah, right, whatever. Dad sometimes talks about that," Ginny looked almost displeased. "Quite annoying, if you ask me," she added to no one particular.

Clara huffed. "No matter! Millions of people don't die each day! Otherwise we wouldn't have our population of 5 billion!"

"You're right…" John said.

"Thank you."

"Did I say ' _you're right?'_ I meant ' _I'm right.'_ As in ' _John you are a genious'_ "

"Believe me, you are quite stupid," Clara argued back.

"Not gonna deny her there," Ginny added.

"No, five billion people die every minute." He looked quite stern, which was a face Clara was used to by now. "Imagine, all the people in the Universe, all the species, not only humans. There are thousands, millions of different cultures and every minute five billion people die. That's 83 million people per second. So, forgive me again if I'm worrying about your very essence of being in the physical universe as we know it!"

For once, Clara had no rebuff. She was utterly stunned. Thankfully, Ginny broke the awkward silence.

"Have you been getting into philosophy? Or have you been having too much tea with Trelawney?" She noticed Clara and John's looks. "Both, I take it."

Clara opened her mouth, but shut it again as the gold plates were wiped away magically back to their shiny selves. Clara frowned, for she hadn't eaten too much. No matter, all these feasts were going to make her fat…

She cleared her throat. "Very well. I understand, however John, do not think that I will forget of our argument. Now, cheer me up and tell me a joke."

"What did the planet say to the sun?"

"What?"

"Nothing, planets don't talk. Honestly, can't you use a little bit of common sense? But, if they did talk, I suppose they would say, depending on their range to the sun…"

Cracking a smile, Clara said, "Shut up."

Ginny flipped her fiery red hair. " _There_ we go."

The hall had suddenly become much quieter, only a few people were talking. Clara noticed everybody's eyes stuck to the Goblet of Fire, hoping for the names to be announced.

"Blimey," Clara whispered.

"I know, right?" Ginny whispered back. "I can barely breathe, everyone is sweating so much." She coughed for emphasis.

"I was going to say that it was awfully boring watch a goblet."

"A _blue fire_ spitting goblet," corrected Ginny.

"Ah yes, because I am so intrigued by–"

The goblet suddenly burst into red flames, changing the mood colour of the room from cool blue, to angry red. Many people 'oohed' and 'aahed.' However Clara was more interested in the charred paper–– no, _parchment_ that floated out of it.

Dumbledore caught it with ease. He read out loud clearly and loudly, "The Champion for Durmstrang," cue dramatic pause, "Viktor Krum!"

The Great Hall exploded into cheer. Clara was happy with the selection, even though she didn't know the student. Viktor walked up beside the teacher's table, and into a door that led to a chamber.

The goblet once more began to spit red fire, and this time, a pretty blue parchment erupted from the goblet. Dumbledore caught it.

"The champion for Beauxbatons is–– Fleur Delacour!"

Once again, the Great Hall was cheering, and Clara noticed it was mainly the male group. Perhaps if this Fleur girl stopped waving her silver hair and shaking her bum, the boys wouldn't be so attracted by her. Clara could not say that she disliked her, and Clara assumed that the goblet would pick a fierce, brave champion. However, watching the girl wave herself around was bit nauseating. Sometimes Clara felt like she was thinking as an adult instead of as a teen.

Clara really did feel bad for the other students from Beauxbatons who were not selected. A few were sobbing on their friend's shoulders.

"Look at my idiot brother," Ginny said. Clara looked for Ron, who was cheering madly; his face was red and his smile was toothey. However, his eyes were averted somewhere down south on Fleur Delacour…

"Ew."

Fleur vanished into the chamber, and the goblet spit out fire once more.

"The Hogwarts champion," Dumbledore called, "Is Cedric Diggory!"

"Aw! Come on!" Practically all the Gryffindors cried. However, the Hufflepuff, showing much more anger and fierceness than Clara had ever seen before– went beserk. Oh, how they cheered. Clara was deaf in both ears now.

"Excellent!" Dumbledore said merrily. "We now have our three champions. I do hope you all root for your champions, as it does a great deal for their…" he faltered, and di all the noise in the room. "Esteem," he added quietly.

The goblet was spitting red again, and one last parchment flew out of it. Dumbledore caught it with more richness than with the other three.

"This better not be you, John," Clara hissed.

"Believe me, if it was, I would be surprised."

Clara's eyes widened. "Did you–"

" _Harry Potter."_

Clara looked up, and saw everyone stare at Harry. Nevertheless, she caught Professor McGonagall sneaking a glance at her instead, and then staring back at Harry.


	16. Thank Goodness for Books

*** Another late chapter. Damnit self!**

* * *

John hadn't really expected the evening to be as explosive as it was. John had just assumed that it would be ordinary; person becomes champion; person wins Triwizard Tournament in the end. That sort of thing. But no, something rather noteworthy instead occurred.

" _Harry Potter."_

The moment the words were spoken, there was a deafening silence; one that even John didn't interrupt. While he didn't consider Harry to be a "friend" they were on _okay_ terms. It would be awfully depressing if John had to bear the thought (which was completely possible) that Harry Potter would die.

Because of the silence, it was almost impossible not to hear the shrill, whisper-voice of Hermione. "Go on!"

And so Harry Potter walked. Or sulked, whatever. Time seemed to be going much slower, and John could feel a certain excited prick at the back of his neck. Harry too walked into the room where all the other champions were located.

"Do we clap?" John asked out loud. However, because of the grand ceilings, and the quietness of the Great Hall, his query echoed throughout the room. Clara kicked him, however her eyes were glued to the chamber door that Harry had walked through.

For a few more heartbeats, the Great Hall was silent, and then it wasn't. People broke out into immense chatter.

"Oh my goodness," Ginger said. "Is that even possible?" She looked at Clara.

Clara's face went all red, making her already big head look even more swollen. "Ginny, I didn't have to do anything with it! To be honest, I was only in the circle for a few seconds. Also, while I am feeling up to the task of Triwizard Tournament, do you really think that I would endanger Harry like that?"

"I don't know," Ginger admitted.

John looked at her pointedly. "Well, I don't think you did it. However, I think that the Goblet would've let you enter. However, I am assuming that is only an ability that you solely are capable of doing."

"Pardon?"

Don't they ever understand a compliment? "I was saying you're special."

Clara sucked her cheeks in, making her round face look awkward. "I know _I'm_ special, but so is _Harry Potter._ You never know, it could be a ruse to get Harry killed!"

"Who would want to kill Harry?" Ginny asked quietly.

John turned his head to face her. "Imagine the most powerful and cruel people on earth. Imagine their leader getting killed. Imagine how they feel for Harry when he's the one who killed Vol–"

"Shut up!" Ginny hissed.

"It's just a silly title! It's not even his name!"

"But that certain name carries power," Ginger shivered.

It was right then that John remembered what occurred to Ginger in her first year at Hogwarts. John empathized.

"Fine, if you want to be scared though–"

"John," Clara said sternly. "Shut up."

John opened his mouth, however it was at that moment that McGoggleGoggle decided to blare her voice all the way to LA.

"Students, quiet down!" The hall became quiet, with still some chatter. McGonagall (There it is!) did not seem satisfied. "I said, _QUIET!_ " Silence. "While this evening has been entertaining for us all, I think that some of you may have eaten too much dessert. I have no desire to hear your shouts and screams over the Triwizard Tournament matter. Now, it's nine o'clock; off to your dormitories at once!"

The students of Hogwarts looked immensely disappointed. There were some groans and moans but McGonagall would have none of it. " _NOW"_ She then briskly assigned some teachers to monitor the students, while she left for the Champion Room with Snape.

All the Gryffindors were led up the tower, to their common room, before everything _truly_ broke out.

"HARRY POTTER IS THE TRIWIZARD CHAMPION!" Lee Jordan shouted.

"YEAH!"

There were chants, banners, streamers, a few balloons, and a flag. A girl even began charming some of the Gryffindor's faces red and gold.

"GRYFFINDOR! GRYFFINDOR! GRYFFINDOR!"

"But… Don't they know what this all means?" John yelled over the yells.

"They're being prideful and stupid!" Clara yelled back.

"Hey, hey, hey, little sis!" Fred said, enveloping a short Ginny in a Gryffindor banner.

"Bugger off," Ginger snapped.

"I think _you_ should join the party!"

Ginger wrinkled her nose. "Are you drunk? You seem drunk."

Fred looked shocked. "What? No way. Why?"

George swooped in. "You lying cockface." He bursted into laughter, while Ginger snorted in disgust. John had no idea what a 'cockface' was, so he wasn't sure what to express emotionally on his face.

"Anyway, Lee Jordan knew a guy, who knew a guy, who knew a seventh year, who bought that strong stuff! And boy am I glad we saved it for tonight!"

"How did you even sneak it into Hogwarts?" Ginger asked.

" _Magic,"_ Fred answered, and then laughed again boisterously. He and George began to walk away, but not before Clara called them back.

"Can you get me some?" Was she joking….?

"Little Miss Oswald, you're underage!"

"So are you," Clara noted.

"Aha!" Fred cheered. "But we're sixteen. Much more mature."

George smiled. "So, no. You can't have any until you're older." And they skipped away happily.

Clara crossed her arms and grumbled something inaudible.

"Clara, why would you even ask them for alcohol?" Ginger asked.

"I don't know… Just wanted to _try_ it…"

"Beer is disgusting, and so is wine. And so is gin and vodka. Don't ever try it," John warned.

"Which pub do you go to?" Clara asked.

John stared at the figures of the sixth and seventh year students who were trying to discreetly pass around goblets. "Remember when Napoleon threw a bottle at my head?" He looked at clara, confused. "Were you there?"

"Okay, it's been a rough night for us all," Clara concluded. "I', going to bed, because I need to prepare myself mentally for the other lecture Mcgonagall is inevitably going to give to me tomorrow."

"Good luck," John said. "But, I need to read up on the history of the Triwizard tournament. Thank goodness for books."

Ginger grimaced, and excused herself saying that she was still hungry. Clara followed her.

"I thought you were going to sleep."

Clara sighed. "Nah. I think I'll go ask this Lee Jordan to ask his friend for some whiskey. Because God knows Harry will need it."

"You messed up your sentence, Clara."

"What?"

"I think you meant to say, " _I will need it."_

"But, I'm underage!" Clara said, in a feigned, toddler voice. And she walked off bidding him a good night.

John strode up the stairs to his bed, not before he saw Ron. John didn't want to engage in conversation, but apparently Ron did.

"Harry back?"

" _Is Harry back._ Seriously, why don't they teach grammar at this school? And no, he has not returned, and if you could please not talk to me tonight; I'm busy.

"Okay…? But, you know. Do you think Clara helped in getting Harry–"

"No," John said defensively. "No. I think that someone else did it, because let's face it, Harry is not an attention-seeking guy."

"Sure."

"Thank goodness we agree. Now, leave me alone."

"Sure."


	17. Dreams and Minds

*** Am I the only one who is seriously craving chocolate? Like, daaaamn...**

* * *

Clara woke up to the light streaming into her eyes through the window. She squinted, retrieved her bearings, and blinked furiously. Clara remained to be in her clothes from the previous day, and she had apparently neglected to fall asleep under the blanket of her bed. In addition, Clara felt a stale taste in her mouth that made her gag.

She had forgotten to brush her teeth, and dental hygiene was very important to Clara. Sighing heavily, she willed herself up into a seated position, where she promptly collapsed back down. Was this normal? Maybe she was just really tired. Everything from last night was a blur. She had a faint feeling that it had something to do with alcohol…

Grunting, she lifted herself out of bed. The hard floor made her lose her balance, and she stumbled a bit.

"Damn," she muttered, pushing the hair that had flown onto her face. Clara sighed, she looked around the room for her clothes, not bothering to fix her bed. Clara went with her usual attire; sweater, tights, and a skirt. She smiled faintly.

Deciding that a glass of water would definitely make her feel better, she left the room, went down the stairs, and found herself walking down a familiar hallway. She entered into the final familiar room to get herself some water and breakfast.

Clara stumbled, surprised by the sight that was greeting her. Instead of the room which Clara thought was going to be her green and blue, tiny kitchen, Clara met the grandest hall she had ever seen. It was full of people clapping, and cheering. The odd thing was that there was no sound. Oh, and it was all occurring in _slow motion._ Something caught her eye. She sat down next to a familiar looking boy who seemed just as confused as she.

"Hi…" Clara breathed. Her voice caught as the boy turned around.

"Do I know you…?" He asked.

"I'm not sure," Clara stammered.

The boy pursed his lips. "Strange, because you seem quite familiar. What's your name?"

 _Clara O–_

She winced. "I can't remember."

The boy sighed. "Same here. I think we're dreaming. Actually, I know we're dreaming."

 _Nervous._ "How?"

Shrugging. The boy answered, "It's obvious. Look at the people. It's difficult, our minds don't want to create so much new data, but look at them!"

 _Confused._ "What?"

"There are three different girls, and three different boys all repeated over and over again. But that's not what's interesting."

"Then what is?" _Excitement._

The boy smiled, albeit awkwardly, like it was something he wasn't used to. "I don't think I know you, but at the same time I _do._ " He watched a group of the copied kids. "Are you _sure_ you don't know your name?"

 _Concentrate_. "Kara? Cass? Chloe? I think it starts with a hard 'c.' " She looked at a girl in black robes trimmed with red. "You?"

He chuckled. "That's actually quite funny. I think my name is John Smith," he paused. "I think. It could be Clayton. Or Kennedy, or Clara."

"Oh!" She exclaimed. "That's my name!" She looked downward. "How could I have forgotten my _name_?"

"Maybe you're _really_ old."

Clara laughed. "No. I must be… What year is it?"

John looked around, and sniffed the air. "Well, we're still dreaming… But dreams do leave a temporal marker… I think this is the year 1994."

Clara frowned. "1994? But… I was 29!"

"Er… Have you seen yourself? You look fifteen."

With sudden horror, Clara looked down at her body and realized just how right this John character was. She was still maturing; her body hadn't filled out, her face lacked the makeup that Clara would rub off harshly.

"How is that…?"

"What year were you born?"

"1986," answered Clara. "But why is that important?"

John sniffed the air, and his face turned sour. "Because that would make you only eight years old, not fifteen."

"I'm _thirteen!_ " There was a pregnant pause. "Hold up. How can I be eight, thirteen, and twenty-nine at the same time?"

"I don't know. But I intend to find out. Starting with our location. Do you have any idea where we are?"

Clara snorted. " _No._ It's just a dream."

"Right, but I think that this dream is a little too complex. Look at me, your imagination couldn't have made me up in five seconds," John noted.

"Well, it's my head–"

"Hold up," John scolded, something that Clara found irritating, "I was here _first._ How do you know it's _my_ dream."

"Because _I'm_ dreaming it!"

John raised an eyebrow. "Well, that doesn't matter, I think we can both agree that this out of the ordinary, and we need to think of a way to get us out of–– whatever this is." He stared into Clara's eyes. "Perhaps the Dream Crabs?"

"The what?"

"Do you feel a pain in your head?" John asked, then pressing on his temple to demonstrate the area. "Concentrate."

Clara did so, but found no pain. "No," sighed Clara, "But, what about the people? It's always about the people," she said firmly.

John smiled. "You're good. I like you."

" 'scuse me?"

He made another angry/annoyed/amused face. "I'm over 2000 years old, get some perspective."

"You look fifteen," Clara noted.

"Not now, please."

"Later, then," Clara said cheekily.

John ignored her; he got up from the chair he was sitting on, and walked over to the slow-moving people. Grimacing, he touched on of their shoulders.

"Helloooo?" He asked.

Clara tried a different pair. These ones had black robes and green trim. Why were they clapping? Why were they cheering?

"Hello?" John tried again. "Can you please say something?" He said loudly and exasperatedly.

Immediately, the kids cheers and claps became audible. John smiled again.

"How–"

"Lucid dreams, the ones where you can control them," John answered. "Try it."

"Er… Okay... " So Clara thought of the cup of water she had needed. A goblet on the table filled up with the clear liquid.

"Think of what you want to find out," John said loudly, over the yells and shouts of the students. "This isn't a regular dream."

"Is it like, a vision?" Clara asked timidly.

"No!" John scoffed. "It's probably just a stunt your subconscious pulled, amplified by the tiny space-time cracks that you were close to in your physical world."

"Space-time?"

John waved at her. "You wouldn't understand. Let's go back to the other thing, help me out here Clara. What were we talking about…?"

"This dream isn't regular," Clara stated.

"Right, so think of what you want to find out that you can't remember."

"Okay…"

 _Think. Think. Think. Where am I? Where am I? Where am I?_ Hogwarts: Great Hall.

 _What's Hogwarts? What's Hogwarts? What's Hogwarts?_ A school for students who are capable of performing magic.

 _Why am I here? Why am I here? Why am I here?_ You are a student attending Hogwarts.

 _Can I do magic? Can I do magic? Can I do magic?_ No.

 _Why not? Why not? Why–_

"Hogwarts?" John yelped, cutting Clara's thoughts.

"Oi!"

"Sorry, but– I think I remember this place. Do you?"

"Maybe… It seems a _little_ familiar." Clara sat down, exhausted. "This is just bloody–"

"Language!"

Clara glared at John for a second, but continued. "–awful. I don't know where, who or when I am? Hell, what am I? A dream?"

The clapping and cheers which were never ending, became louder. Clara and John turned to face the grand doors to the Great Hall swing open. A man walked out, he was wearing a badge. It read: _Bartimus Crouch._

Another man followed. He also wore a badge: _Ludo Bagman._ It was funny, because Clara recognized them. She tried to think about them and get answers, but the ever growing cheers were making it difficult to concentrate.

Another man entered, this time Clara didn't recognize him… Wait… No… That was a lie. Something starting to prick Clara's eyes. Tears. The man had dark skin, and was walking in slow-mo as well, but his _face._

"I know him," Clara choked, gripping her seat. John remained standing. The man passed by.

Another man entered, except this one seemed a bit younger. His skin was darker, and his outfit was less professional; loose jeans and a hoodie.

"I know him, I know them both." He stroked his chin. "Where do I know them?"

The cheers became deafening. It was like a tsunami of screams and shouts. A woman this time, in Victorian dress. Her face had a mischievous smile carved into it. Clara gripped her seat tighter. Her chest was rising and falling. The screams and claps were _so_ loud. John was hitting his head in hopes of remembering something.

" _Missy."_  
Clara turned to face John. "Oh my God. I know her. She-– she.."

"Missy," John repeated. "I remember her now. She killed somebody, didn't she?"

The tears pricked again. "Oh my God, yes. She killed him–– Danny."

"Which one is he?" John asked. He looked around, while Clara kept seeing different people trickle in slowly. A little girl in a red robe; a green, scaly woman; a scary-looking, but short potato thing in blue armour; a girl who had to be around 18 with old, raggedy clothes and a fierce look in her eye.

"Who are they?"

"People we know, but can't remember the details of. It's our mind trying to tell us something. But what exactly?" John said. He stopped for a second, letting out a deep, almost shuddering breath. "Clara Oswald, I think we do know each other. I think that something very big is happening right now. We both know these people, we both _recognize_ them."

"My name," Clara gasped. "I didn't even know my last name!"

"But I did. See?"

"What is happening? I just wanted to get water from my kitchen–"

"Your kitchen! Describe it!" John demanded.

"I-I can't…"

"Clara! We need to figure out what is going on!"

"I'm only 13!" She said, something was wrong. There were other thoughts floating in. They were about the pig school, too. "I-I just want to go back to sleep."

"No!"

"In my dorm–"

"Clara, this is a dream. People are made to forget dreams!" Already, his voice was fading.

"I just want to wake up tomorrow and forget. And walk with my friends to class–"

"Please… You're making me wake up too. Now _I'm_ thinking of Hogwarts!"

"–And I'll see you, John," Clara said, even though her eyes were shut tight. "I'll see you, and it won't be in this nightmare."

"Clara!" The lights and sounds were all fading away.

"–I promise."

* * *

"Wake up, dummy," said a voice from above.

Clara jerked. She was under her blankets. In the familiar dorm. "Ginny?"

Ginny was in her regular day clothes, and she was wearing an amused look on her face. "Some sleep. It took me ten minutes to wake you." She frowned. "Did you have any of Fred and George's alcohol?"

"What?" Clara asked, groggily. "No…"

"Thank goodness," Ginny said. "That stuff was probably just Lee's piss."

"Ew, thanks Ginny for that wake up," Clara said, laughing. "What's the time?"

"Nine thirty. We should hurry up. Breakfast is almost over."

Clara got up, "Er.. yeah." She felt disoriented as she walked, the feel of it not seeming quite right.

"Hey, Clara!" Ginny called as Clara removed her outfit for the day. "You're birthday is coming up. It's November 23rd, right?"

"Yeah!" Clara called back. "Same anniversary as the day Kennedy was assassinated."

"Who?"

"President Kennedy," Clara enunciated. "My birthday is November 23, 1986."

"!986?" Ginny queried, pulling up beside Clara. "You're 13 going on fourteen. I thought you were born in 1980."

"Sorry," Clara said apologetically. "Misspoke."

"Nah, you just can't do math," Ginny teased.

"Coming from the girl who was raised in a society where they don't teach math in school!"

"I learned math from my mum!" Ginny defended.

"Well, I knew a math teacher once," Clara began. Her face fell. "Long time ago." Her stomach growled. "And that's the sign that I'm about to implode from hunger! Let's go!"


	18. Bully

*** I haven't uploaded in a bit. Sorry, just classes and stuff. Anyway I'm super hyped for the _'Doctor Who'_ spinoff series _'Class'!_ TBH I'm just happy to have somehing with the same aura and (basically) same issues, just with teen drama and it being for more mature audiences. *DIES***

* * *

John awoke to the feeling of large book crushing his chest. Groaning, he sat up, causing a loose page to fall out.

"Oops," John muttered. John had been reading a book about Magical Law, which in all honesty was so very boring. There wasn't even a little bear or insect that he had to find hidden within the pages.

"Yeah, where _is_ Waldo?" John asked to no one in particular.

Heaving himself into a sitting position, he felt the annoying sensation of 'head rush' in which his vision yellowed and the world spun for a few seconds.

It was an odd feeling, John realized. As well as the fact that he had no memory of how exactly he went to sleep. He had just pulled up the book when– John scratched his head. Usually, John didn't even sleep. Sure, some days he was tired and he would lay in bed, but it usually ended with him wondering about the three dimensions. What was that guy's name again…?

 _People are made to forget dreams._

John frowned at the thought. He had heard of the phrase, and usually retorted with " _But very clever people can hear dreams."_ And there they were– the slipping images replaying in his head. But the more he concentrated, the more the seemed to fade. Well, until he knew that he _must_ have dreamt that night, but John was incapable of recalling the dream. That seemed to occur a lot more often. Generally, John lucid dreamt, in that he could control his dreams. Typically, he could also remember most details in dreams as well.

All the beds in the dorm were empty, except for Harry's. John saw the rise and fall of the adolescent frame and wrinkled his nose– before realizing just how tedious that was. Apparently John from the previous night had neglected to change (which wasn't something new) so, John decided to just change his shirt in hopes to not waste any water or give the house elves more work.

While walking down the stairs to the common room, John quite literally bumped into none other than Hermione Granger.

"John," she replied coolly.

"Buckteeth," John replied back.

Her face went an unhealthy scarlet colour, and her back straightened. "Excuse me?"

"Actually, have you thought of going to a dentist to get those fixed?" John asked simply.

"Listen John, not to be rude, but you really are a horrendous person if I may say."

John was confused. "Why? All I did was describe the state of your teeth and give you a recommendation. Get braces! Or even better– _magic!_ "

Hermione bit her lip. "I–"

"And even if you didn't _mean to be rude_ , I took offense, by the way!"

Hermione threw her hands in the air. "Honestly!" And she walked away from John. There was a tap on John shoulder, which caused him to narrow his eyes.

"Who–?"

It was Clara, who jumped back at his expression. "Sorry, but I thought you were going to talk back to Hermione." She looked at Ginger who was by Clara's side. "Has anybody told you you're a bit of a prat?"

"Everyday," John answered honestly.

"Yeah.. You might want to do something about that," Clara answered. Ginger snickered, to which John raised an eyebrow in her direction.

Ginger sighed. "I only caught a bit of the John/Hermione exchange… What happened, exactly?"

John grunted, "I just described the being of her teeth, saying that she needed braces, or she could just magic her way out of the mess, because she's a _witch._ "

Ginger shook her head. "You've bought this one upon you. Hermione hates it when people comment on her teeth." Ginger wrinkled her nose. "Why are you so bad with people?"

John walked off to the portrait hole, bumping into Ginger's shoulder as he did so. "It's not so much that I'm bad with people, it's that people are bad with me."

Clara snorted. "John, if you're going to say something as confusing as that, at least make it a tiny bit philosophical."

"Nobody complains with Shakespeare's ' _To be or not to be'_ line!"

Clara smirked, as they walked down the corridor to the Great Hall. "That's because Shakespeare is _cool._ "

"I've only ever heard Americans say 'cool' " Ginger said thoughtfully.

"Believe me, it grows to be the most popular phrase of all time," John said. "Besides ' _dude'_ but that one was my fault." He coughed. "Where are my _cool_ shades?"

"In the pits of hell where I threw them into," Clara joked. There was a peculiar sound from her direction. She flushed in embarrassment. "I'm _super_ hungry."

Luckily, before the growling lion from Clara's stomach burst out and destroyed the human race, they reached the Great Hall. John stared the room down. There was something oddly off about the room.

The three of them sat down, and enjoyed some croissants and crépes, meanwhile chatting about general nonsense. Or, that's what Clara and Ginger thought.

"No way there are such things as _aliens!_ " Ginger said. She was incapable of saying 'extraterrestrials' without sounding like a horse. Perhaps it was the gingerness that affected her state of being.

John huffed. "The Universe is gigantic! Huge! Enormous!"

"Too many synonyms," Clara chimed.

He ignored her. "Of course there is life out there!"

"But I read in a book that we were alone in the universe– created by God," interrupted Ginger.

 _Here we go._ "First of all, I'm actually surprised that wizards believe in God because of the whole magic thing going on. Second, whether we are with or without a god/gods, the universe is large enough to have thousands, millions of other civilizations!"

Clara coughed. "Okay, let's not go too far. How about we just eat our lovely pancakes–"

"Crépes."

"–Crépes, whatever!" Clara pursed her lips. "Is Harry here?" she asked suddenly.

"No," John muttered, still miffed. "He's still sleeping. _As I was saying–_ "

"Shut up," demanded Clara. "I will spew my brains out."

Ginger jerked her head. "Oh, isn't that Hermione's club thingy? I haven't really done anything, and I feel bad."

"Nobody's done anything, not even Hermione and she started the thing!" John murmured.

"What?" Clara asked. " _What did you say?"_

"I'll eat my crépe!"

* * *

A few days later, John had arrived for Potions class, surprisingly early, but that only being because Clara sent him off. He noticed Slytherins waiting by the door, all wearing badges with luminous, red script.

 _Support_ Cedric Diggory–

 _The_ Real _Hogwarts Champion._

John was offered one. He turned it down with disgust.

"What's your name again?" He asked the smirking Slytherin girl.

"Pansy Parkinson," she replied.

 _Oooooh._

John laughed. "Well this is the most useless piece of junk I've ever seen."

Of, course that was the exact moment none other than Malfoy had to just stroll in.

"Junk?" He sneered. "You mean like Potter?" He pressed the badge against his chest so that new, green words lit up.

 _POTTER STINKS!_

"Oh, real witty," came the voice of Hermione Granger. She was standing with Harry, who looked sickly mesmerized by the green lights.

John snapped his fingers. "Gotta agree with Granger here. This is some real piece of creative work. Did you come up with this: _POTTER STINKS?_ That'll sell to the crowd. What? Was _FOUR–EYES_ taken? Or, was there some copyright issue where you couldn't use the phrase _RACIST, BIGOT, ELITIST FERRET?"_

Malfoy lunged at John, and snarled, "You'd better be happy that I have more decency than to touch a filthy blood-traitor or Mudblood like you and her!"

There was a collective gasp, and John turned to see that Harry had drawn his wand.

John narrowed his eyes. "No need for violence…"

Malfoy shoved John aside, which was something john highly disapproved of.

"Hey!" John warned, but it was too late.

" _Furnunculus!"_

" _Densaugeo!"_

They missed each other, and instead Harry's hex hit Goyle while Malfoy's hit Hermione. Hermione was clutching her mouth and whimpering.

John rushed to her side, as did Harry and Ron. Prying her fingers away from Hermione's mouth, he was met with a less than-pretty sight. Her already buck-tooth teeth were growing rapidly. They resembled beaver's teeth.

"You need to get her to the hospital wing," John said, " _now._ "

Ron nodded, but of course that was the moment Snape decided to interrupt.

"And what is all this noise about?"

"Potter attacked me, sir!" Malfoy began to explain.

John snorted. Harry leapt to his feet. "Sir! No, we attacked each other at the same time!"

"He hit Goyle!" Malfoy continued.

John looked at Goyle who seemed to have a sort of fungus spreading across his face.

"Hospital wing, Goyle," Snape demanded softly. He was silent.

"Does anyone notice that Hermione is dealing with the issue of her teeth growing at an unhealthy rate?" John cried. Apparently, someone did. Pansy Parkinson was giggling with a few other girls. John added, "Besides the few Slytherin idiots who think that this is even remotely funny."

Snape's lip curled. He spread his hands out. "I see no difference."

Hermione let out a soft whimper and ran down the corridor.

"How are you qualified to be a teacher, much less a decent human being?" John snapped.

Snape leaned over menacingly over John. John tried to look unfazed.

"Fifty points from each of you, three" Snape drawled. "And detention to Potter, Weasley and Smith. And be assured that you will learn something from my teaching and that is that I do not tolerate attitude, understood?"

John had the urge to respond _No,_ but Ron kicked his shin. "Sure." Snape flinched.

As he worked on his potion, John felt the familiar feeling of guilt creep into his stomach. He really was awful with people, wasn't he?


	19. All We Have Is Each Other

*** I watched "Class" last night and practically shit my pants... It's been awhile since I've seen Doctor Who related horror. *cough* Torchwood *cough* Anyway, it was really good. Haven't uploaded in a week, mainly because I spent all my time reading Scorose fanfiction, (my new, revived obsession) and time just flew by. It's nothing like looking over my shoulder though and catching a glimpse of my friend reading Drarry smut on her phone during class. Like... ._.**

* * *

"Is Hermione back yet?" Ginny asked Clara.

Clara shrugged, "I haven't seen her. She refused to let anyone look at her while in the hospital wing. I feel so bad for her." Clara sighed.

"Well, we all now Snape was a bloody git for not helping her," Ginny added.

"He hates us all," Clara sighed again in agreeance.

John plopped down into a seat. "It's like people don't even know _anything!_ "

Clara slumped. "Here we go."

John looked at her weirdly. "The article in the prophet is horrendous, if you ask me. That woman didn't even spell English words correctly!"

Realization dawned on Clara. "Oh, yeah. I only read a bit of the Rita Skeeter Harry snatched it out my hands, and I just thought that maybe I shouldn't read it."

Ginny nodded. "It's awful, what she's written about him. I never knew people could be so insensitive."

Clara coughed, and tried to indiscreetly point in John's direction. Ginny caught on.

" _Oh_."

" 'Oh?" What? What happened?" John asked slowly.

Ginny smiled. "Nothing."

Clara looked around. "I'm taking that you guys both read it?"

John didn't answer; Ginny replied 'yes.'

"What did it say then?"

"Read it yourself," John replied.

Clara ignored him. Ginny, luckily was kind enough to share.

"Well, it was talking about he, cries over his mum and dad's deaths. How he's not worried about the Triwizard Tournament, and um," Ginny's face went red. "That he's 'going out' with Hermione. There was a bit about how he's always surrounded by girls, too. Like you and me." Her face was very red now.

Clara also felt a twinge of embarrassment. "Well, he is surrounded by girls: your brother– Ron."

Ginny laughed. "Yeah, s'pose you're right."

"I always am."

"Don't get cocky," Clara laughed.

The days passed, and Hermione was out of the hospital wing, smiling again. Clara greeted her with a hug, as did Ginny. Meanwhile, John kept raging about some beavers and how on a distant planet they had the _best_ soup. Clara took it as his attempt at humour.

Clara also found herself sitting with John and Ginny rather than Harry, Hermione or Ron. Perhaps it was because of the thick air that was constantly surrounding them. It was no secret that Harry and Ron were no long the limb-attached friends they used to be. Clara wasn't stupid; she saw the lonely faces of Harry and Ron as they tried to hang out with other boys. Hermione complained about Harry and Ron whenever she talked privately with Clara and Ginny. Clara had suggested that they somehow get them to talk to each other, but Hermione shook her head.

"Oh, it's no use! They can't even stand thinking about one another! It's so incredibly stupid!"

"How about you take them both out for butterbeer?" Clara suggested. "If there's one thing that brings people together it's food." She made a face. "Let's _not_ think about the American Thanksgiving, then."

Ginny looked up. "Why not?"

Hermione sighed. "Because the Europeans that arrived in what they called 'New England' basically maltreated the Natives there."

"Okay, history lesson time," Ginny breathed.

Clara shook her head. "Back to the point. Ginny and I could join you so that you're not lonely–"

Ginny interrupted. "Sorry, Colin Creevey wanted some help with something today." She sighed. "My Saturday will now be a time of tutoring and Charms essays."

"Okay, then _I'll_ go with Hermione and Harry, then."

Hermione scratched her head. "Well, I could do some S.P.E.W. work, so sure."

Later, in the afternoon, Clara and Hermione were waiting in the common room for Harry. Hermione glared when she saw Harry holding his Invisibility Cloak.

Harry frowned. "Hermione, I thought you wanted to go out with Ron…"

Hermione smiled nervously. "Actually, I thought maybe he could join us."

"No," Harry said flatly.

"Harry!" Hermione pled.

"Perhaps you can sort everything out!" added Clara.

"Well, nothing needs to be sorted!" Harry snapped.

Clara winced. "Whatever. But I don't think you need to be Invisible. He's just a boy, not a CIA special agent. There's really no need."

Nevertheless, Harry wrapped the cloak around his person, and disappeared. "There definitely is a need. Now," the invisible force brushed past Clara, pushing her to the side.

"No need to get angry," Clara muttered.

Clara followed Hermione to Honeydukes, where the three looked for some sweets.

Clara wrinkled her nose. "I hate licorice," she said, while shivering.

Hermione shrugged. "The wizard ones aren't so bad." She spotted some chocolates with unmeltable ice cream filling. She smiled. "I'll go for those ones, don't you think?"

Clara looked at the chocolates. "They're really big. Aren't your parents dentists?"

Hermione sighed. "I suppose you're right…"

Clara laughed. "Nah, you're fourteen! Plus, you deserve a little bit of something especially when we have this bag of useless, invisible bag of sh–"

"Hey!" hissed Harry from underneath the cloak. "Pass me some chocolate frogs."

"Get them yourself," Hermione replied coldly.

Clara decided on some limited edition pumpkin spice taffy, which weren't so bad. Though, Clara was getting a bit sick of the autumn-themed foods.

They left Honeydukes, wandering the streets in search of some activity.

"Please take your cloak off," Hermione begged. "No one will bother you!"

"What about her?" Harry said.

Clara turned to see Rita Skeeter exit the pub. Clara had never seen Rita before, except in photos. She was, in anything, uglier in person. It was necessarily her physical appearance, rather her aura of superiority. Clara immediately didn't like her.

Rita walked away, swinging her ghastly crocodile clutch.

The three walked into the Three Broomsticks, which was teeming with teen life. Clara looked to a far booth and saw an older couple kissing, she looked to her right and saw some boys playing exploding snap, and two friends playing wizard's chess.

Harry had decided to edge his way away from the mass of people, and went to sit in a fairly secluded corner. Luckily, he chose the corner _away_ from the hormonal couple.

Hermione removed her scarf and hat. "I'll get some drinks. Butterbeer for all?"

Clara handed her some money, as did Harry and Hermione went to buy the drinks. So now Clara was stuck with Harry in the corner of the pub, while he was hiding under his Invisibility Cloak.

Clara coughed. "I really think you should talk to Ron–"

"Oh, come _on_ Clara!" Harry groaned silently. "Not you too!"

"What?" Clara defended. "You have to make up, and it may take a while, but all that teen drama isn't cut out for people like us."

" _Like us?_ "

Clara clarified, "People who have been in mortal danger, and only have their friends to rely on. When all is gone, what do we have? Each other."

Clara couldn't see Harry's reaction, so she imagined him looking like a crocodile with a lightning scar and glasses. She frowned at herself, cursing herself for her awkward thoughts.

Harry remained silent, luckily Hermione returned with three glasses of butterbeer and interrupted the silence.

She sat down, and pulled out a notebook. "I'm glad you came Clara, otherwise I would've hat to learn how speak telepathically. Here," she said, "you can help me with my S.P.E.W. work."

Clara nodded, and looked at some of the books Hermione had brought along about elvish welfare.

"Perhaps I should get some Hogsmeade villagers to join…" Hermione said thoughtfully.

Harry groaned. "When will you give spew up?"

"When house elves have basic rights! They're not slaves!" Hermione said hotly. "I wonder if a direct approach to the kitchens will help. Oh, but how would we get to the kitchens?"

"Ask Fred and George," Harry replied glumly.

"Or, you could ask the person who has a map of all of Hogwarts," Clara suggested.

Clara stopped talking.

Hagrid appeared, and he smiled kindly. "Hello Hermione, Clara."

Clara never really had much of a relationship with Hagrid. She had talked to him only when Harry, Hermione or Ron were around. But, she liked the man.

The person she did not like was Moody, had had joined Hagrid. He leaned over, seeming to look at Hermione's S.P.E.W. notebook. His coat smelled heavily of alcohol, and something else…

"Nice cloak, Potter," he whispered. Clara was taken aback, until she saw that Moody's fake eye was dilated and looking straight at Harry's direction.

Hagrid said something to Harry, which Clara only got a little bit of, but Harry told her anyway.

"Hagrid wants me to meet him at midnight…"

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Really? But that might make you late for Sirius's meeting."

Clara coughed. " _What?_ "

Hermione gace a confused glance, before shaking her head. "Oh, sorry! Harry has a meeting with Sirius tonight."

"Great, one week out of the loop and already I've missed so much."

Later that evening, Clara was sitting with John and Ginny in the common room. It was around eleven, and Clara was reading up on potions, which were seriously starting to confuse her.

"It's basic chemistry!" John said.

"It's _basic_ ally boring me to death!"

Ginny moaned. "I hate third year. I hate everythiiiing."

"Well, I hate genocide and murder, so there's one thing we both hate," John said.

"That got dark fast," Ginny said. "Too fast."

Clara pushed her hair back. After cutting it, she found that it now flew into her face more, rather than all over her shoulders and back. Sliding the elastic off her hand, she put her hair up into a messy ponytail. She stared at the other black hair band on her wrist, and decided to have some fun.

While closing one eye, she pulled the elastic between her thumb and her other index finger, and let go. The elastic hit Ginny on the shoulder, and she yelped.

"Hey!"

Clara looked down at nowhere near completed work in hopes of hiding her guilty face.

Times like these made her forget all the troubles she faced when sleep came at night. It was already getting late, she knew that there would be more dreams. Though she couldn't ever remember them, she knew that none of them had featured that boy. She couldn't remember anything about him, just that he was there.

Clara refused to tell anyone, who would just shrug it off as a teen girl issue, but it was so much more than that. Last night, she had seen flashes of the words: PULL TO ENTER.

Instead, she pushed on a blue door.

And she was in.


	20. Study

*** Happy Halloween! Also, it's the 35th anniversary of James and Lily's deaths, but on a happier note, its the 25th anniversary of when Harry, Hermione and Ron all became best friends! On a different note, we had a Halloween dance at school, and let me just tell you: Isn't asking a girl out to a gymnasium full of lights, loud music, screaming and coke spillages just the most romantic thing? Also there were two people dressed up as Hillary C. And Donald T. XD (their masks were scary as hell though)**

* * *

Early in the morning, John found himself doing the strenuous task of reading a book while eating porridge. He had charmed the book so that it wouldn't get ruined in case he spilled some food on it, but he wasn't sure it would work. Hence, it was taking awhile for him to finish eating.

Clara and Ginger sat down next to him, with Hermione following a few minutes later. John didn't mind sitting with only girls, for most of the boys at Hogwarts were so bone-dead stupid. Though, many of the girls here were annoying too. He wrinkled his nose in remembrance of Pansy Parkinson whom he had crossed paths with this morning. Long story short, John hoped the school would put up those posters saying that some people were sensitive to awful-scented perfume.

Ginger broke the silence. "So, how'd the meeting with my brother go?" She noticed the blank stares and sighs. "I take it not well, then."

Hermione groaned. "Harry simply refuses to admit that he _misses_ Ron!"

Clara nodded. "Yeah, though it's not like Ron has been a saint either."

"You can say that again," Ginger snorted.

"You know, maybe they're just growing apart. That also makes sense," John offered unenthusiastically.

Hermione shook her head. "Harry and Ron were best mates! They're supposed to be _together forever._ Just, some jealousy got in the way."

"You make them sound as if they were a couple," Clara noted.

"They practically are!" Hermione cried.

Ginger tapped the table. "Hush, he's coming our way!"

John turned to see Harry sit down next to Hermione, all glum-faced. John noticed that he didn't bother to eat anything.

Clara drew a large breath. "Divination class is a bitch. Don't know why I took it."

Ginger laughed nervously. "You thought you could be a fortune-teller."

John fumbled with his book, and it fell onto the floor. John stooped down to get it, and noticed that Harry was tapping his foot anxiously against the floor. John also noticed that Harry ignored wearing to of the same sock. One foot had a grey striped sock, the other one was a black sock.

John got back up, and set his book down. Hermione swallowed her last bites, and excused herself.

"Sorry, but I have got to go–"

"Mind if I come?" John asked suddenly.

Hermione made a weird sound in her throat. "Er…" she gave a sympathetic look. "Sorry, but I'm going to have to decline."

"Okay, let me try again: I am coming with you." Clara hit him on the side.

Harry cleared his throat. "Hermione and I just need to talk–"

"Great, then I'll join in on the conversation. No offense, but I really don't want to hear about _My Little Pony,_ " he glared at Ginger and Clara.

" _My Little What?_ " Ginger whispered.

"No idea." Clara responded quietly.

"John," Hermione said a little for forcefully. " _It's important._ "

"I bet it is, which'll make it all the more interesting. I'm curious as to what exactly is making Glasses here so jumpy."

Fixing his eyewear, Harry responded, " Just let him come."

Hermione opened her mouth, then closed it at Harry's glare.

"Come on," Harry said quickly.

Hastily, John picked up his book. He walked out with Harry and Hermione. John hadn't expected them to go outside, so he was confused when Hermione instructed him to put his cloak on. In the end though, it wasn't a big problem.

They walked out to the lake. The air was clean and crisp, and the clouds reflected off the surface of the black lake. Harry explained what he had seen with Hagrid. So, Harry Potter's first task was to fight a dragon. John was also concerned over the fact that Karkaroff might be out to kill Harry.

"Murder is literally the last thing we need this year," John noted.

Hermione grunted. "Murder is unacceptable in any case."

" _You'll regret that one in a few years,"_ John thought to himself.

"What?" Hermione snapped.

Evidently, John had spoken out loud. "Nothing," he sighed. John examined the veins on a leaf he picked up. Silently tracing his finger on the little lines, imagining the process of photosynthesis. The little veins created a leathery-looking texture that reminded John of the dragon issue.

"How are you going to subdue the dragon?"

Harry moaned. "I don't know! This is literally the reason why we're out here!"

"Well, dragons aren't known for being easy to defeat," Hermione said.

"Thanks Sherlock," John retorted.

She cast a venomous glance, but continued. "They're hide is particularly tough. Perhaps there is a charm we could use against it. Or _something!_ We should go to the library!"

"Thank you," John said to the heavens. "Books are the greatest weapon to man," he reminded them.

"What? Am I expected to throw at it _Standard Book of Spells: Grade 4?_ Or put it to sleep by reading it?" Harry asked acidly.

"Whatever works," John replied. The three began walking to the school.

"Whatever the case Harry, you will not throw the book at the dragon. That's–"

"Useless, I know," Harry finished.

Hermione huffed, leaving what reminded John of the steamy breath that Harry might come face to face with during his task. "I was going to say that's awful toward the _book_ , but that works as well."

They reached the school, and walked to the library. Hermione immediately went to ask Pince where the books about dragon were, meanwhile John looked eagerly at some random books all around. There was one on Quidditch, another one on Wizarding construction, ah yes, and the the thriller _How To Magically Sit on a Chair_. John wasn't sure whether or not that was an actual reference book, until he realized that he was in the nonfiction section. People were crazy.

Hermione led them through the maze of books to a fairly used section about dragons. There were a couple other, younger Hufflepuffs looking at the pages in a dragon book flip themselves and smiling in awe.

 _They must be Muggles,_ John realized.

"Okay, let's get started!" Hermione urged. She plopped a huge book on the table they were working at and smiled.

John flipped through some books, reading as quickly as possible. There was something about a dragon bane, but that had been out of use for years now. It was venomous to the user. There were some charms, but the were way beyond even NEWT level, and Harry _definitely_ could not pull some of these off. John was pretty sure even Dumbledore was even capable of performing the spells.

Harry put a book down, and John picked it up.

"There's nothing in there," said Harry.

John shrugged, and read the book anyway. He flipped all the pages, letting them whiz by his face. "Hm, you're right. Though, that chapter on dragon toes…" he shuddered.

Harry gave him an awkward glance, while Hermione glared. "Don't play around. If you want to help, help. Stop flipping the pages!"

"That's how everybody reads!" John protested. "I'm not Chuck Norris who forces the information out of the books!"

Hermione looked offended, and deciding to ignore him, snatched the book from his grasp and returned it to the table.

After some time on dragons, they moved on to different charms. That proved to be ineffective as well, as most of the charms weren't too dangerous.

"Oh no," Hermione whispered at one point.

"What?" John asked.

"Viktor is here," she muttered, jerking her head in Krum's direction.

"So?"

"So that means girls will be pining after him!" she said desperately.

John put a hand on his heart, er the one on the _left._ Wait, people only _have_ one heart. "I am offended that you don't think those girls are into _me_."

Hermione wrinkled her nose, while Harry suggested that they get out. John sighed when he noticed a girl tying a Bulgaria sash around her waist.

The next day, John failed to see Harry join their class in Herbology, though John had been ten minutes late for that class. Clara was also looking more agitated than usual.

The following day after that, Hermione and Harry walked up to him quickly.

"Yeeeeees?" John asked.

"I need your help," Harry said.

"With what exactly?"

"The Summoning Charm."

John smiled, "Easy."

Woah, was he wrong. John wasn't sure how the teachers got by without blowing their heads off.

"Sh–" Harry began, then stopped at Hermione's glare.

" _Chien_ ," he finished.

John frowned. "Did you just call Hermione a _dog_ in French?"

"No I didn't"! Harry defended. Hermione seemed to be in a foul mood for the rest of the Summoning Charm Practice session.

John was _sure_ he never wanted to be a teacher.


	21. 14

***I'm here crying cause of this massive stomach ache I have. Maybe its because of the upcoming election... Anyhoo, enjoy this chapter!"**

* * *

The bell rang at midday on the day of the first task. Clara giddily got up from the lunch table. She flashed a smile at Luna and Ginny.

"And the time has finally arrived!" Clara squealed.

Luna smiled airily. "Ah, yes."

"We'd better get moving," Ginny said. "We need head out to the stadium. Oh, I hope Harry–" she faltered, "I hope Harry or Cedric wins," she said quickly. Her face was almost as red as her hair.

"Hm, I would quite like either Harry or Cedric to win as well," Luna said in her sing-sing voice.

"Anyone from Hogwarts," Clara injected.

"Yeah," the three girls agreed.

As they walked out into the packed hallway– they noticed Ron and Hermione pushing their way through the crowd.

Clara forced herself through to Hermione's side.

"Oh, hello," Hermione said shakily.

"Hi. So, how's Harry. I heard that he and John, er and you of course, worked on the Summoning Spell–"

"Sh!" Hermione said sharply. Clara raised an eyebrow. Hermione looked at Ron for a second, who had rolled his eyes. "I'm sorry, it's just that… Well, I haven't told anyone. John just can't keep his mouth shut, now can he?" Her eyes flickered in Ron's direction, who luckily did not catch on.

 _Oh._ So Hermione was worried that Ron, because of his feud with Harry, would somehow cause Harry to lose. Probably why she didn't tell Ron of her plan.

"Come on," Ron said gruffly, grabbing hold of Hermione's arm. "Let's go–"

Hermione forced her arm out sharply. "Don't grab me, _Ronald_. Honestly, have you no manners?" She however, did oblige, and walked off with Ron out of the school, throwing her head back to give Clara an apologetic grimace.

Clara, left to stand in the middle of a mob sighed. Ginny and Luna appeared by her side.

"Thought we lost you," they breathed.

"No matter how hard you try, you can't lose _me_ ," Clara said.

They walked out to the cool, brisk air. There was an immense amount of cheering coming from all the three schools. Perhaps moreso from Hogwarts and Durmstrang than Beauxbatons. Nevertheless, the air was filled with crackling sounds– no doubt a Weasley Twin's gimmick. There were a lot of black and yellow flashes, which faintly resembled a bee. Almost all the Gryffindors were cheering for Harry in red and gold, but the other ¾ of the school supported Cedric Diggory.

Clara had decided to be bipartisan and wear a red and gold plaid skirt, and a yellow sweater with black cuffs. Ginny had laughed at her outfit, but Clara quite liked the odd look.

Teachers led the students to the stadium. Clara, Ginny and Luna sat down near Hermione and Ron. Someone pushed Clara's back.

"Oi! Watch it!" She said, as she turned around. John was seated behind her, his eyes looking a bit redder than usual.

"Oh," said Clara. "We missed you today. Professors are not going to be happy with you skipping class this morning–"

"Yep, whatever," John yawned.

Clara knit her eyebrows together. "Are you okay?"

"Fine, just need a coffee…"

"Did the John Smith just grow up?" Clara mocked.

John gave a confused look. "What? No. I don't understand how me wanting coffee all of a sudden makes me an adult, or for that matter, _mature_. I simply was craving the bitter heaven of coffee, to heighten my senses and keep me alert! Today is the day Clara. Today we find out whether or not the Harry Potter is as tough as he is said to be."

Pursing her lips for a second, Clara said, "We were there when Harry defeated the Basilisk, and uh– _Tom Riddle_ , AKA Voldemort, when he fought off Peter Pettigrew and we travelled in time."

John scoffed, "Do you really think Harry Potter would've made it without _my_ help?"

"I certainly think so," Clara said, half-smiling. Though, she was wondering the same thing… She straightened. "Sorry, just had a thought–"

"Something new, I take it," John said.

Clara ignored him and continued, "Do Scottish people like coffee? Or do they prefer tea? I always thought of coffee as being an American thing, and tea being English. Though, donuts could be referred to as American…"

"Is that seriously what you were thinking of," John asked clearly unimpressed.

"What? I'm nervous! Harry's gonna be facing certain death!"

"No, because with my help Harry's gonna be prepared for the dragon–"

"Dragon? You didn't tell me about a dragon! You said he was just learning a Summoning Charm! Why didn't you mention the dragon?"

"I didn't think it was important," John replied simply.

Ginny and Luna turned around as well. "Wait, so Harry's gonna fight a _dragon?_ " Ginny asked, seemingly panicked. "Isn't that super deadly?"

"Not if you live," John pointed.

"Oh, don't worry about the negatives!" Luna advised, though she too looked a little worried.

John spread his arms in Luna's direction. "Thank you! Everybody just thinks of the negatives!"

"John, all you _are_ is a negative," Clara said.

"Ah, but a negative times a negative is a positive!" John retorted.

"Where are your other negatives then?" Ginny snorted.

"I don't know. Somewhere in Shakespearean England, perhaps," John answered matter-of-factly. "Maybe Bristol? You can definitely find me in Glasgow."

"Oh my God," Clara said, exasperated. Clara opened her mouth, but there was the sound of trumpets that filled the air, and Clara could see that a golden egg had been set on a stone in the arena.

Bagaman walked out and waved to the crowds, which erupted into cheer. Ginny and Luna clapped, while Clara gave an annoyed glance at John.

"Welcome, welcome!" Bagman said loudly, his voice amplified by a charm. "Today, we are witnessing history, in the renewed Triwizard Tournament!" More cheers. "Our contestants, Cedric Diggory, Fleur Delacour, Viktor Krum, and Harry Potter," there were fewer cheers for Harry, "will fight an epic battle today. Matched by no other. They have all selected four different dragons, that they will try to get past in order to collect the Golden Egg!" Bagaman continued to ramble on about rules and such, but Clara couldn't help but have a sinking feeling in her stomach.

The sound of blaring trumpets went off again, and Cedric Diggory walked out of the tent the champions were situated in. The crowd went wild, to say the least.

Clara clapped, but her smile faded when she saw the blueish-grey dragon emerge. It sniffed, and made an odd roaring noise, and the stands went silent for an odd second.

Then, Cedric bound into life. He ran across the rough terrain of rocks, attempting to get to the egg. The dragon lifted its tail, and planted it right down in front of Cedric's path. He cast a spell, however it simply sparked purple against the dragon's hide. Bagman continued with his commentary, but Clara couldn't pay attention to him. This seemed quite rough, and Clara was briefly reminded of when she read somewhere about the Roman gladiators who fought in the Coliseum. Sometimes, they fought against lions.

Wrinkling her nose, Clara put the thought aside.

Cedric jumped around for a good fifteen minutes, and at that halfway mark Clara was gripping her seat in panic. There was a screech from the dragon, and Cedric fell on bloodied up his face. However, Cedric was finally able to climb the large rock in which the golden egg was perched upon, and claim the egg.

Clara clapped and cheered, mainly in relief. Though, she had to admit that it was fun to watch.

Nect, Fleur Delacour came out. She had lost her composed, elegant air, and it was replaced with the unmistakable stench of fear. Clara wondered if the green dragon Fleur would face could sense the same.

Whatever this dragon was, it didn't seem to be as harsh as Cedric's. Sure, Fleur did fumble (her skirt caught fire) here and there, but she had managed to get the egg in ten minutes.

More band music, and Viktor Krum marched out, all surly and bold. Clara could see how he was handsome, though he seemed much too scary for Clara's taste.

Krum's dragon was red and fire-breathing. Clara winced, as at one point she was sure that Krum was literally toast, but he had cast a spell just in time. Krum rolled around, did some fantastic moves, and got the egg fabulously. If by fabulously you meant sooty, red-skinned and sweaty, then yes: fabulously.

And finally, Harry walked out shakily. Clara heard Ginny suck in a breath, and John murmured something unintelligible.

Harry raised his wand. Nothing happened. Clara heard John grunt in disapproval, and saw Hermione clench Ron's arm, to which he awkwardly received.

Clara really wished she could relieve the feeling of dread rising in the pit of her stomach. And there it was, in a flash.

Harry mounted his Firebolt hastily, while Bagman yelled something to the crowd.

"Holy shit," Clara muttered.

Hermione stood up and cheered, as did many others. Harry swerved and dived expertly, which seriously impressed Bagman.

"Great Scott! This boy can fly! Hear that, Mr. Ktum?"

"Doc Brown's got it right!" Clara yelled. "Best Gryffindor Seeker!" She cheered and clapped some more. Clara could barely notice the pain in her throat from all the yelling. Or the watery nose she was developing from the cold. Or the fact that her fingers had gone numb.

The dragon spewed fire, and even struck Harry once with its back spines. Clara bit her lip in worry. Harry seemed to be taunting the dragon in a way. He circled it, keeping a far away distance that it wouldn't burn him to bits. Then, the dragon gave in. It raised it leathery, black wings, and left its egg unguarded for a mere second. Harry dived and retrieved the egg in a moment's notice.

The stands erupted into cheer once more, as Harry had done the task in the shortest amount of time. He was led away by a swarm of teachers to be checked out by a nurse.

"Let's go," John said to Clara. "I want to see how my work paid off."

Clara rolled her eyes knowing that John probably didn't help at all, and was just a nuisance– but agreed. She stumbled her way down the steps to the tents where she bumped into Ron and Hermione looking for Harry too.

They darted inside a tent, and Hermione quickly wrapped Harry in a large hug. "Oh, you were brilliant!"

"Thanks to _my_ help," John interjected.

"Shut up," Clara commanded. She turned toward Harry. "That was a pretty amazing job." She was very quiet though, when she noticed Ron fiddling with his jacket and his face ghostly white.

"Er," he said seriously, "whoever put your name in the goblet must've wanted for you to–"

"Caught on, have you?" Harry said coldly. Clara slumped in disappointment. "Took you long enough."

The air was very still and cold, Ron opened his mouth but Harry cut him off. "It's fine, forget it."

"But–"

"Forget it!" Harry said, though his voice was lighter and he was giving a small smile. Ron grinned back, and Hermione finished the moment by bursting into tears.

"Holy Sisters of Khan," muttered John as rolled his eyes at Hermione's reaction.

"There's nothing to cry about!" Harry said, utterly confused.

"You were both so stupid!" Hermione cried. Though, she rushed forward and gave Harry and Ron a large hug.

"We should go…" Clara whispered to John.

"What? And miss my favourite TV show?" John asked, with mocked horror. Or, at least it seem like mockery. You could never know with John.

Hermione pulled back, and dabbed her eyes. She looked at John and Clara and an embarrassed flush stained her face.

"S-sorry," she said.

Clara smiled, "No problem. I am also very glad that you two are back to being mates. I mean, the angry testosterone levels in the air… I nearly passed out."

Ron raised an eyebrow, and Harry scratched his hair. Clara immediately felt embarrassed, and decided to say no more.

The five decided to check the scores for Harry, sure that he had won. Ron explained all the way through what had occurred.

"–and Cedric Transfigured a stone into a god, and it kind of worked–"

They watched as the four judges streamed their scores out of ten into the air.

… _8_

… _9_

… _9_

… _10_

… _4_

Clara cheered for Harry, though Karkaroff's four seemed to be downplaying the actual situation. But, Harry was tied for first place with Krum.

Clara walked with John to meet up with Luna and Ginny, and Clara smiled faintly at the day. Afterall, today was the 24th of November, just the day after her birthday. A large event with magic and dragons was a great gift, in Clara's opinion.

And so, Clara Oswald laughed as she talked to her closest friends, whom had all yesterday given her happy 14th birthday wishes. Clara Oswald also forgot the nagging feeling that the number 14 just wasn't quite right, and that something big was headed her way.


	22. The Sirens

***Ooooh! Special Election Day chapter! This is lighter than some other chapters, because the Lord knows that we need some calm in our lives, especially today. Have a very happy, happy day, and make sure to eat your chocolate cake that was reserved for moments of utter anxiety like these! :)**

* * *

John winced as a firecracker whizzed by. "Could you keep your little pyrotechnic at bay, please? I'm _trying_ to work!"

"Calm down, mate," a Gryffindor student muttered.

The Gryffindor common room was full on celebration mode. Harry Potter had tied for first place, and his tricks and dives on his broom almost made up to the fact that Quidditch was cancelled this evening.

That sadly meant that John was surrounded by crazed teens in red and gold. Wonderful, just splendid. John huffed as he worked some more on his calculations. Clara sat down next to to John along with Ginny.

"Here's some butterbeer– whoah…" Clara said. She was staring wide-eyed at the calculations on the parchment.

John ignored her. "I was wondering how much energy it would take to travel at light speed."

Clara scoffed. "I thought that was impossible!"

"Just because you don't understand the logistics of it–"

"John, please shut up," Clara sighed. John wrinkled his nose, but obeyed.

Ginger whistled, "Well, I've no idea what the pair of you are going on about– but I agree with Clara. Mainly because agreeing with John is like a suicide pact."

Clara laughed, much to John's chagrin. "Remember when he confused _lumos_ and _incendio_ and set the chair on fire–"

"Shut up!" John said vehemently. "Shut uppity up up!"

Clara raised her hand in the air in mock surrender with a snort. Ginger was laughing along, while John flared his nostrils.

Snatching a butterbeer, John muttered, "I hate being wrong in public."

There was a sudden explosion of cheers from the Gryffindors. The three snapped their heads to see that Harry, Ron and Hermione had all walked in. John frowned at a banner that was floating in the air that had a drawing of Cedric Diggory's head on fire. John suddenly wanted to pick up his drawing skills again– but that was just a phase.

Lee Jordan picked up the golden egg, and heaved. John walked closer to the crowd to see what was going to happen.

"Come on Harry, open it!" Lee prompted.

"He's supposed to figure the clue out on his own," Hermione said hotly. "Did anyone pay attention to the tournament rules?"

Harry took what looked to be the heavy golden egg in his hands.

"Obviously not," Hermione said to herself, though John and a couple others heard and snickered.

"Open it!" Someone said.

"Let's see what's inside!" Another said. There were a couple more cheers.

Harry ran his fingers over the egg, which had little images engraved into it; John couldn't see them clearly, for the funny light in the common room caused the shadows on it to be far too prominent. However, Harry dug his fingernails into the the groove that separated the two halves, and pulled.

Immediately, there was a loud screeching. John had heard a lot of things– this was a magical world after all, but none were quite like this. He covered his ears, hoping to drown the noise out, but it was really loud. The screeching sounded more like screams of pain and agony that regular, old just plan _screech_.

Harry closed it as fast as he could, and John slowly pulled his hands away from his ears.

"That sounded like a Banshee!" Seamus said, still recovering from the shock. "Maybe that's your next task!"

"No, no, no! That sounded like someone being tortured!" Neville said, his face pale and white. John sadly had to agree with Neville. "What is you need to fight off the Cruciatus Curse?"

"They wouldn't allow that," George said matter-of-factly. "Well, I think it sounds like Percy singing in the shower. I think that would be a great challenge. That's probably why Percy was so excited over the summer! Finally, his moment to shine!"

"It honestly sounds like a siren to me," John said honestly. "The ones that people use when you're rushed to the hospital." He was met with empty stares.

Hermione furrowed her brow. "Actually, they do sort of resemble…"

"Oi, Hermione!" Fred sand. "Do you want a tart?"

Clara crept up to John's side along with Ginger.

"What do you think it is?" she asked.

There was an odd, pressing sensation in the centre of John's head. "I-I'm not sure… But that definitely reminded me of those ambulances."

Clara flinched. "Er, yeah… Suppose so."

"Sorry, Ginny very, very confused–"

"Obviously, you're talking in the third person," John said.

"–What's an _ambulance_?" she finished.

"Oh, it's this form of transportation that picks you up if there's a medical emergency, and takes you to the hospital," Clara said. She ntoiced Ginger open her mouth and continued, "A hospital is basically a place where you heal people."

"Oh, like St. Mungo's," Ginger said.

"What? That sounds like a holy fungus," John said. "Or fruit," he added, looking to the ceiling.

"Christ," Clara said, alarmed. "Oh my God, Neville!"

Everyone turned to see Neville– who was now a large canary. "Son of a canine," murmured John, as he watched the boy molt back into a human.

Everyone broke into extreme laughter, including Neville as the shock wore off. "Canary Creams!" Fred announced. "Invented and produced by George and I– only seven sickles!"

"I'll take ten!" John announced. He looked at Clara, "Can I have 70 sickles?"

"Why would you even need those?" Clara asked, horrified. She did, however pull out a galleon which was sure to cover the cost.

"Because I desperately want an insight into the body of a canary," John replied, plucking the gold coin and handing it to George with a mischievous grin.

* * *

Soon, it had become December, and the weather was starting to show that as well. There was piercing sleet that fell from the sky and clouded your eyes. John didn't mind it too much, the cold never really bothered him as much as it did others. However, when you are temporarily blinded while walking to Care of Magical Creatures because the 50% frozen water hits your eyes, it's not very fun.

On top of that, John's robes were 250% burnt (Blast-Ended Skrewts.)

After classes, John shrunk into the shadows of the common room when he saw Clara walk in dressed in a candy-cane decorated sweater, and a red skirt with Christmas trees that flashed colours magically.

" ' _Tis the season to be jolly, falalalalalalalala!"_ She sang brightly, her pink paper crown slipped off her head. She stopped singing when she caught glimpse of John working in Arithmancy.

"Oh!" she said, "John!"

"Hi," John replied limply. "What are you wearing. Is it Christmas already? I swear it was just November _yesterday_!"

"Everyone knows that Christmas starts the day after Halloween, but I thought that that would be too much," Clara stumbled over a few words. " So, naturally the 1st of December is the start of Christmas!"

"I thought there were only 12 days of Christmas," John said, confused.

"I _like_ that song–"

"How did it go again? Ah yes, _pears kissing five golden trees!_ "

Clara laughed, "No, John. You mucked it up again. Every year… Anyway, this year I decided to be a little more _extra_. Everyone knows that Christmas is the best time of the whole year–"

"Er… Isn't that being biased against all the other very important holidays?" John asked.

"Well, I don't necessarily mean the holiday Christmas, per say. More like the whole wintery season! Everything that's good happens on Christmas!"

"Remember that John Lennon's Christmas song that actually wasn't about Christmas, but actually about ending war?" John queried to one in particular.

Clara ignored him, "Listen, I just want this year to be the happiest it could possibly be!"

"Why though?" John looked into Clara's big, brown eyes for a second. They seemed too large for a face, something that always bothered him greatly.

"Because… We never know how much time we've got," Clara answered, her holiday cheer diminishing.

John scoffed, "We all know _that_."

"Well… Because… I feel like we're going to need all the happiness we can get."

"Why?"

"Does there have to be a reason?" Clara asked, her gaze far away.

John sat there in a moment of silence, not sure what to say. Clara however, quickly pursed her lips and ran off to find Ginger. Scratching his head, he decided that Arithmancy was better than mulling over the words spewed by Clara's holiday-high head.


	23. The Wiles and Woes of Being a Teen

*** So... I know I haven't uploaded in a while, and I blame it on my spectacular skills to procrastinate. Anyway, in my three-and-a-half week absence, we now have a new President Elect! I'm not going to state my opinions on _that_ because, quite frankly that news is already all over the place. Also, keep in mind that that the past few days have been me watching "Awkward" at about every chance I can get, so if that shows through in my work, you know why... **

* * *

A few more days into December, Clara walked into the Great Hall for lunch and raised an eyebrow at the excitement levels which were at a high. She sat down next to Harry, as John seemed to be practically setting fire to his meal.

"Did I miss something?" Clara asked, plopping some squash onto her plate.

Ron groaned, as Hermione sighed.

"The Yule Ball," she explained. "Professor McGonagall explained to us that there's going to be a dance, and well… I don't think the boys here are having much luck with the prospect of asking a girl to dance."

"... Ask a boy then?" Clara suggested, taking a bite of her food.

"Now that I think of it," Ron said, "Harry, will you go to the dance with me?"

Harry laughed, then saw Ron's green face. "Oh, what? You're serious?"

"I can't dance with a girl! They're like ballerina swans on ice! How am I supposed to ask one of them out? I can barely even–" Ron stopped mid-sentence to admire a Beauxbatons girl walk buy, with a skip in her step.

"Close your mouth Ron!" Hermione scolded.

Harry and Clara chuckled as Hermione whacked Ron on the arm for being so immature. "Hold on a sec," she told the group. Walking over to where John was seated, she sat down.

"I'm assuming you heard the news," he said.

"Yeah, I did. A dance seems like something fun."

"Oh, you can't go," said John.

Clara went rigid. "Excuse me, but I can attend any dance I like! And if this is because we're presumably expected to bring a date _then_ –"

"No, I mean it's only for fourth years and above," John added.

"Oh," Clara frowned. "That's disappointing."

"I could bring you, but that'd be awkward," John suggested.

"How would it be awkward? We're the best of friends!" Clara let the thought sink. "Oh, it would be awkward because we're the best of friends! Got it…"

"The other problem is that I don't like anybody here," John said.

Clara thought for a bit. "Well, if you can bring anybody, why not Luna? I mean, she's a friend, but not a super-close friend so it might not be as awkward."

John frowned. "Clara, that not what I meant–"

"Oh, stop your moping!" she begged, cutting him off. "Come on," she beckoned, "come sit with the others. They are facing the same problem too, you know."

Clara slid back into her original seat, with John following like a depressed child. Woah, that was a tad bit dark, Clara realized. Nevertheless, Clara pulled herself out of the mental well that she was falling into, and back into reality.

Reality being, of course, a Co-Ed dance with the possibility of having a boy (or girl, Clara wasn't picky) asking them out. Clara knew it was unlikely for a 4th year or above to ask her, that didn't mean she couldn't imagine.

Having again fallen into a catatonic state, Clara shook her head and tuned back into the conversation.

"Does the school really think it's a good idea to hold a dance with pubescent teens that have a 96% chance of getting up to whatever teens do?" complained John.

"Are you fifty, or what?" Clara kidded.

Harry groaned, "I've got it worse. See, all of you don't need a dare, but McGonagall told me that I have to dance with someone because I'm a _champion_!" Harry stressed the word 'champion' with great distaste.

There was a slight beat in her heart. Of course, Clara had not completely gotten over her crush on Harry, but it had certainly eased down. No longer was she the confused 11/12 year-old, but rather a more mature _14_ -year-old with! And though Clara would greatly enjoy being Harry's date, she had the feeling that Ginny and Harry would be a much better match.

"Why not just ask a friend?" Clara suggested to Harry, mentally kicking herself because that was the same advice she gave to John.

Harry looked at Hermione for a second, then to Ron and frowned. "No, that would be weird…" He looked at Clara. "Could you help me? Girls are like wolves, always in murderous packs…"

Hermione threw her hands in the air, "Glad to see that no one needs my assistance!"

Harry went red, and spluttered, "But it's different with you–"

"In what way?"

Clara felt bad for Harry, and decided to come to his rescue. "In the way that he would probably feel awkward asking one of his best friends about girls, when she _is_ a girl."

"I'm confused," John intervened. "But, Hermione is a girl, wouldn't that make things _easier_?"

The conversation continued, and the day wore on, as did Clara's classes. And so did the days, too. Clara was in the centre of everything– from Harry and Ron trying to get a girl, to Hermione's constant complaints about having to study elsewhere due to the fact that Krum had basically converted the library into a small club.

John had asked McGonagall if he could skip the dance, to which she replied that he must attend for some time as the whole gist of the dance was magical cooperation. Five points were then taken from Gryffindor as the Deputy Headmistress caught John bad-mouthing her as he explained his predicament to Clara.

Clara and her friends were sitting in the Gryffindor common room one evening, when a ghostly-looking Ron walked in. Ron walked robotically to the corner of the room, where Ginny hastily went to his side.

"Are you okay?"

Clara put her Potions work away, and followed Ginny to help aid Ron.

"I don't know why I did it!" Ron said in between breaths.

"Did what?" Ginny asked.

"I asked Fleur Delacour to the dance!"

Clara pursed her lips in an attempt to not laugh.

"Oh, _Ron_!" Ginny said with fake sympathy as she patted his shoulder.

Just then, Harry walked in through the portrait hole with a gloomy face and raised an eyebrow tiredly when he saw Ron.

"What, er, happened?"

"He asked Fleur Delacour to the dance," Ginny explained.

Ron sputtered and gasped. "There were people all around! And I sort of just blurted it out! She was just standing there talking to Diggory, when I said it! She gave me a sluggish face and I ran off!"

"She was probably just using her charm on Diggory– She's part Veela, you were right. But it's all useless, Diggory is going with Cho Chang."

Ron looked up with hope.

"I asked Cho to go out with me a few minutes ago," Harry said dully, "that's when she told me."

Many things happened when that sentence was uttered. First, Clara felt her her heart sink. Second, Clara scolded herself for not noticing _Cho Chang_! Third, Clara scolded herself again when she jealous even though she could definitely see the disappointment in Ginny's eyes. Fourth, Clara had stopped breathing–

"Haha," John interrupted. He was watching everything from a couch and gestured them to continue. "I think I should just _Accio_ myself some popcorn!"

Clara shook her head.

"This is terrible"! Ron continued. "We are the only ones who don't have dates! Hell, even Neville asked Hermione! He was going off about how she was really nice to him and all that! But guess what? Hermione declined! Who can blame her, though."

"Hey"! Ginny and Clara said simultaneously.

Hermione joined in the fun, causing John to roll his eyes and pull out a book, muttering about how the porcupine [Hermione] was going to make things all boring again.

"Why'd you miss dinner?" Hermione asked.

"Because they were just turned down by girls they asked to the ball!" Ginny said quickly.

Clara was still reeling from the _Chang Revelation_ , but she noticed how Ron eyeballed Hermione up and down, up and down, up– his eyes shot up to her face.

"Hermione, you're a girl," Ron said.

"Well spotted," Hermione said venomously. She did, however twitch in her place, crossing her arms over her chest in an attempt to make herself more stately. Though, that was perhaps not all the reasoning behind her actions…

"Come with one of us!" Ron suggested.

"I can't."

"Come one, Harry and I will both look stupid if we go stag!" Harry opened his mouth, but Hermione snapped right back at Ron.

"I'm going with somebody else! And it's not Neville, if that's what you're thinking. Just because it's taken you three years to notice and differentiate which gender I am, doesn't mean that the rest of the world is that slow!" She stormed off angrily to the girls' dorms.

"She's lying," Ron said.

"She's not," Ginny muttered quietly.

"What?" Clara said. "You know who Hermione is going with?"

"Nobody!" Ron shouted.

Ginny did not answer.

"This is getting stupid," Ron sighed. "Ginny, you go with Harry," Clara felt relief swell up inside of her, along with a little bit of jealousy, but mostly relief.

"I can't," Ginny said, even quieter if possible. Her face was crimson. "Neville asked me after Hermione declined. I thought… well… I wouldn't be able to go unless I went with him… So I said 'yes,'" she looked embarrassed beyond heaven itself. "I think I'll go have a late dinner…" she excused herself.

Clara wasn't sure what to think, especially since that Ginny had decided to withhold this information from her.

"I take everything back that I said saying that teen drama was boring," John said from his seat.

"Oh my God," Clara said irritably.

"What do we do now?" Harry groaned.

Clara shrugged, thinking about how disappointed Ginny must've felt knowing that there could have been a possibility of going with Harry… She felt sad that her friend couldn't be happy. It occurred to Clara that perhaps the reason she had refrained from telling Clara about her date was because she was afraid of causing Clara jealousy. Clara of course wanted to go, and just thought that perhaps she could go with John instead (despite the awkwardness) and not feel anymore guilt.

"How about you, Clara?" Harry said timidly. "Mind going with me?"

Guilt. Ver much, guilt.

"Er… sure," Clara said. Her hands were very cold. "What about Ron, though?"

"Yeah, what about _me?_ "

There were about ten thousand thoughts running through Clara head, when she spotted Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown. Not really thinking, she ran up to them.

"Heeeeyyy, is one of you available to go to the ball with Ronald Bilius Weasley?" she asked, throwing in a good smile at the end.

"I'm going with Seamus," Lavender said quickly.

Parvati looked stumped. "Well, I–"

"He's a great dancer!" Clara lied.

Silence.

"Five galleons," Clara said quietly.

"Done."

"Oh, that's great!" Clara said, raising her voice. "Have fun, but not too much fun!"

Clara walked back to the two boys (John was there too, but he didn't count as a human being, much less a boy. Though, boys were a different species in and of itself.)

"What did you do?" Ron asked, his eyes wide.

"I just pulled of magic and got you a date with Parvati Patil."

"Yes!"

"I bribed her," Clara confessed into Harry's ear.

"What?" Ron asked.

"Nothing nothing…"

However, as Harry and Clara broke into grins, followed by laughter, Clara felt her stomach sink lower than the Titanic in the Atlantic, and Clara would know that. Afterall, who do you think pulled the S.O.S. switch?

Clara could use a good S.O.S. switch right about now.


	24. Burden of Chains

***Well, I just wanted to thank you all for all the support and the really nice reviews I've been given. In all honesty, I would continue writing even if there were only one other person interested. Anyway, it's December... YAAAYYY! I am pretty much always cold, though today wasn't too bad. About 40F and it was nice and rainy. Anywayyyyyyyyyy enjoy!**

* * *

John tapped his book with his graphite pencil. John found that pencils were much more useful than quills, for he could erase all the little marks and mistakes he made. Of course he wasn't going to confess that he many any mistakes though. However, his attention was locked onto Clara, who seemed more agitated than usual. She sat a little bit away from him in the common room, and John knew that the best way to learn was to watch silently. John smiled to himself, _sneaky, sneaky._

Back to Clara, he noticed how she would jump whenever someone would talk to her, or how her face went red when she spoke to Ginger. John had even asked her about it.

"Is your face okay?" he had asked. "It gone all red," he flapped his hands wildly.

Clara slapped his hands down and muttered an "I'm fine, thanks."

Returning to the present, John could see Clara desperately trying to focus on her homework, but horribly failing; often looking up and grimacing.

Walking to his friend he asked quite seriously, "Doesn't it ever get boring? All the homework you do? Such an amateur."

"Well, excuse me if I actually worry about my grades!" snapped Clara. Her eye twitched, sighing Clara buried her face in her hands. "Sorry," she apologized, irking John. Apologies were a waste of time. "I've just been really preoccupied."

"Is this about the dance?"

"How'd you know?" Clara asked, surprised.

"Well, I supposed that someone must've asked you. Don't know why, seeing as you have a big head and are a control-freak."

"I am not!"

John attempted a smile, which was really just a twitch of his lips, but it counted as something. "Let's go outside," he suggested.

"But it's _cold_ "!

"But you're _lazy_!"

Clara wrinkled her nose. "Fine, but only because you are my friend and we really don't get enough time together. Plus, I bloody hate Charms essays."

"Who doesn't?" John agreed.

Smiling, Clara pulled herself from her stiff position and joined John to don their coats and go outside. Clara muttered a quick warming spell, which didn't really affect John too much. He was like an ice queen: the cold never bothered him anyway.

Realizing that John had just snorted in disgust, Clara turned her head. "Okay," she started calmly. "When you said hand out I didn't know we would go outside. Sure, it's nice but it is so bloody cold!"

"You followed me out here, and got your coat too!" John argued.

"I thought we were going to the owlery!"

John wrinkled his nose. "The owls they're hate me."

"Of course they do," Clara muttered. She eyed where they were. John looked around too, to see what Clara was so interested in. They were currently in a court garden that was frosted with a few inches of fresh snow. John turned to see his footsteps imprinted on the fresh snow. Apparently, no one had walked on this snow before. It brought immense satisfaction to John when he thought of that fact.

"Well, Clara?"

"Well… _What?_ "

"What's going on?" John said, getting to the gist quickly.

"I don't understand…" Clara said slowly.

John sighed, typical of Clara to pull a stupid stunt like this. "I mean, why are you so" he wiggled a bit to emphasize his point, "so… twitchy?"

"The whole English dictionary and you chose the word 'twitchy'"

"So?" John shook himself, Clara was straying from the topic. "Clara, despite what you may think of me, I'm not dumb."

"Say that again?"

"I'm not dumb."

Clara snorted. "Sorry, it's just so funny hearing that come out of your mouth."

John could really feel himself getting off topic. "Clara, I've done some math and I realized that your changed attitude started two days ago. Incidentally, I also noticed that was the day Harry–"

Clara laughed, "Oh my God, you honestly think this is because Harry asked me to the dance? John, you're being stupid again." John however did notice that he face was starting to become redder and redder by the minute. It was most likely the cold.

"Clara, I'm not stupid. And do you honestly think that I don't pay attention to how you feel? You're my best friend."

She was silent, which surprised John because that almost never happened. She opened her mouth, then closed it, then opened, and repeat the cycle for six more times.

John continued, "And if the problem is that you think it'll be awkward between us, let me tell you I give you my _most_ of my support."

That snapped her out of it. " _Most of your support?_ And since when do I need your permission?" She slapped his arm, causing little snowflakes to fly about. "And you were doing so well," she grumbled.

"Clara–"

"Sh, John. I'm thinking. Do not disrupt me or I will mutilate you."

John went silent, and didn't even protest when Clara laid her head against him and muttered, "You're a really good friend." Though he shut it _all_ down when Clara moved in for a hug.

John cracked his neck before climbing into his bed that night. Grabbing his book from the bedside table, John began to read _A Christmas Carol_ silently and happily. The story was about ghosts who came to visit Scrooge, the old man who so bitter about Christmas. The story had a nice moral lesson, though John did admit there was something very disconcerting about the idea of ghosts dragging chains.

After reading for a bit, John found that he was suddenly all too warm, and that the lamp was much too bright. Thinking that perhaps he's better close his eyes… And drown out the light…

John twitched when something tapped his leg. He immediately opened his eye and pulled the covers over him when he saw Clara at his side.

"Clara–?"

She smiled. "Good morning!"

"How did you get in here?"

"I'm magical, remember?" She flitted her fingers.

John frowned; there was something wrong about Clara. First, her face was looking weird. And her hair was different.

"Did you get a make-over?" John queried.

She laughed. "No, you idiot."

"Then why–"

"Honestly, is it this hard to figure out?" She got off the bed, and twirled around, her plaid red/black skirt slightly flapping. She wore a black sweater and a lime green Christmas crown. The crown fell off her head, which caused John to reminisce of earlier events. She slumped her shoulders as she sat back down. "Really? Come on!"

John shook his head, confused. "New shoes? You're a _little_ taller."

"John," Clara said a little more firmly this time. " _Look at me_. Do I look like the person you saw a few hours ago?"

Something lumped in John's throat. "What have you done to Clara?"

The Clara-look-alike smiled. "I'm her. _I'm_ Clara. This is what I look like at the age of 30."

His heart dropped. "No… My Clara is 13–"

"Actually, she's 14."

"–14!"

Old Clara leaned forward, and suddenly John saw the little lines on her face that weren't there before; the makeup that Clara didn't wear, and the face structure which was more defined and less childish.

There was a rasping sound, and John glanced at the ground where at Clara's feet were shackled around her ankles. There were also chains, but they were made of gold and entwined with mistletoe. There was an ominous glimmer of light that shine whenever Clara even twitched her foot. John pushed the thought about Baldr and mistletoe out of his head.

She looked sadly at the chains. "John, what does this remind you of?"

"What?"

"Think. But don't overthink."

"Marley." That had been the first ghost Scrooge had seen.

Clara smiled. "There you go."

John felt himself relax. "Oh, so this is all just a dream, right? I was just reading A Christmas Carol and suddenly I'm here."

"Of course it's a dream, John. But I have to tell you something."

"To change my scrooge-ish ways about life and people? I may be withholding, but I'm not that _grouchy._ "

Clara's face became more stoic by the second. "John, I'm here to from your literal mind. Listen to me, I have information that will be helpful."

"I'm literally always told never to trust what my mind think every single day by you. The _real_ you."

"I am the real Clara. I can prove it.:

"There, you just gave away that you aren't the real Clara."

"John–"

"STOP! Just, let me wake up, please."

Clara leaned back a bit, and moved her leg causing the horrendous sound of the chains to scrape against the floor. She noticed John's stare at them.

"Do you know what these are?"

"In the story, Marley carried chains to signify what he forged in life. His chain is supposedly very heavy with greed." He looked at Clara's chains again. "You?"

She smiled bitterly. "The gold represents all the good in the world and all of what I have enjoyed. My life was plentiful and amazing."

"Gold is _very_ heavy," John observed.

She wrinkled her nose in distaste. " _Tell_ me about it. I think it's because all that good came at the cost of me never staying anywhere. I missed a whole life because I was travelling and even missed my love. The gold weighs me down every single day to remind me that I have lived a pure life but at the cost that it was never full. I had a lot, and it was great; but my Danny–" her voice broke.

John wasn't quote sure what to say, so he asked, "And the mistletoe?"

"Oh, that one isn't really heavy, per say. It is what I am."

"A kissing branch?"

"No, John I am you mind I know what you think, Baldr."

John shivered. Balder, the Norse god of purity, light, forgiveness, peace, and love. John realized that it was quite similar to the things Clara stood for. However, in the Norse myth, there had been a rumor that Baldr was to be killed. And so, because he had been so loved throughout all, Frigg (Baldr's mother) had made every plant in existence vow to never harm him. Except, mistletoe. Loki, the god of mischief, used mistletoe to create a weapon and kill Baldr.

"You see?" Clara said. "The thing that represents love and endearment during the winter, but also what killed beautifully. That is what I am chained to. Love and death. That is something that I bare the burden of because of you, John. You don't remember it, though."

He could barely breathe.

"Finally, I think you should know something, John. My chains are heavier than all others because Time itself runs through them." John saw as ripples of light but also darkness shone on the gold. "Time is infinite, that's what everyone thinks." Her eyes grew cold. "But we all know mine was all too short."

She then lifted her chains, and plopped them directly over John's chest, causing him to gasp at the weight. He could feel the _coldness_ of it.

Choking, he lurched up from his bed. It was early morning, and the sun wasn't even completely out yet.

There was another tap on his leg, and John flicked his eyes up to see that Clara was still there, chainless.

"I'll visit you, sooner or later." John reached out to touch her, but although her body seemed palpable, the moment he ran his fingers into her hand, she disappeared. She didn't dissolve, or fade, or poof away. She just left.

Perhaps nothing was real.


	25. The Trust that Comes with Friendship

* **Well, it is getting so cold that I wanna cry. Also, I'm really excited for the Doctor Who Christmas Special. (Who isn't?) I also really want to watch Rogue One, but I haven't gotten my tickets yet... Oh well, my friends told me it was really good when they went to a pre-screening. Anyway, I hope you drink lots of hot cocoa 'cause y'all gonna need it you live in the North. And if you're in Florida or someplace warm like Mexico: _jaja, tienes tanto suerte, que quero llorar._**

* * *

The days were getting closer and closer to Christmas, which also meant that the Yule Ball was bearing as well. Under different circumstances, Clara might've felt happier, but she had been feeling guilty all day.

Clara had told Ginny that Harry had asked her to the dance a couple hours after it occurred. They had been getting ready to sleep, when Clara blurted it out.

"Harry asked me to the Yule Ball tonight, as a friend though. I thought you should know seeing as–"

"Seeing as _what_?" She wore a smile, but it looked tired. Ginny laughed, "Nah, I'm just kidding." She rubbed her hair, messing it up and causing a fire halo.

"Hm, well I just thought you should know. But that does mean we get to go together! And we won't be lonely!"

Ginny yawned, and wrinkled her nose. "Well, I feel bad for Luna. I feel like we've been ignoring her–"

Clara looked down at her feet. "I could ask John to ask her. We both know that they're _perfect_ for each other!"

"Hmm… I don't know. Sometimes I think that John needs a master to rein him in. Like you, Clara!"

"If this is your attempt to tell me that I'm a control-freak–" Clara faltered. "Ew! The thought of John and _I_ –"

"Well, you won't have to worry," Ginny stated. "There's Harry."

Clara's face fell into one of disbelief. "Wh-What?"

Ginny shimmied herself into her bed, bringing the blankets up to her neck. "You never know, Clara. In the future. Mind you, I think you've got Cho Chang as competition. Not sure what he sees in her."

Clara cocked her head to the side, also getting in bed. "Well, she's pretty, smart, funny, a _brilliant_ Seeker." Clara realized her mistake. "Though, Ginny you are all those and more."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you're his friend. And you actually care for him back. Cho is just a crush."

There was a chuckle from her red-haired friend. "Well, I think that you're obviously the better friend. Always hanging around them." She yawned again.

"I'm 100% sure of the fact that if you weren't going with Neville, he would've asked you!" No response. "Ginny?" There was silence, and Clara saw the steady rise and fall of Ginny's body as she slept.

Clara, turning over so that she could face the ceiling sighed.

Bringing herself to the present, Clara ate her oatmeal distastefully. Ginny was eating with Luna, and still talked to Clara but their conversation were shorter, and still friendly, but not as sincere.

Then, there was the issue with John. Clara often caught him staring at her with a quizzical face etched on his character, and when he realized Clara had noticed, he turned away quickly. It happened again, and Clara decided that it was the last straw. Picking up her plate and moving to where John was seated, she plopped down onto the chair.

Immediately, John got up.

"Hey!" Clara said.

"What?"

"I'm feeling severely left out! It has been days since I have talked to you properly!" Clara reminisced to her previous conversation with John in the snow. The way she leaned against him and just knew that he was the person she cared about the most.

Clara felt her stomach tighten. Perhaps John felt awkward about that and Clara had inadvertently sent the wrong signals.

John sat back down, thankfully. He rummaged through his back and pulled out a book.

 _A Christmas Carol: By Charles Dickens_

Clara raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"

"What do you know of the story?"

She looked off thoughtfully. "Er, well there is the character of Scrooge who hates all cheer and Christmas. And he's visited by 3 ghosts who warn him that he has to change his ways."

"4."

"What?"

John set the book on the table and leaned in to inspect it. "Scrooge is visited by four ghosts, not three. You're forgetting the business partner– Marley."

"I read it in the seventh grade!"

"You're 14 right now and in 3rd year, though." John scanned her curiously with his eyes.

Clara 'humphed' and crossed her arms. "Well, I heard that the Muggles begin school at around 4 or 5 and they have grades that go all the way up to 12. _And_ I happen to know a Muggle witch who said her mother had to read it in the seventh grade and recommended it to me."

"Lame excuse," John said.

"It's no excuse!"

"Am I supposed to believe that–"

"Let's get back to the story! If you don't believe me, then fine," snapped Clara.

John shook his head. "Alright, then. The story, he's visited by ghosts and blah, blah, blah. But," he lowered his voice. "I had a dream, Clara."

"Okay…?"

"It concerned the novel, and I was thinking– Could you check on it?"

"To see if this is some cursed object?"

John smiled, "Precisely."

Clara wrinkled her nose. "Why, though–"

"Clara," John nearly begged.

"Oh, fine." Whipping out her wand, she flicked and, " _Revelio."_

The book flew open to a ink stain that covered both pages, to which Clara flicked her wand again and the stains disappeared.

John greedily took the book into his hands. "That ink wasn't there before…"

"John," Clara said, intruding on his detective-fest. "I think someone just spilled ink on the book and wasn't able to rid of it properly." She snatchd the book from his hands, and looked at the SIGN OUT page at the front. She tapped a name.

"See? This one is all dark and blotted. By the name of… Nope, too messy, but it looks like Mary, or Marla… Something along those lines. The date of sign-out is from the 1970's though."

John frowned and groaned.

"What I don't understand is why you didn't figure this all out on your own, John."

"I needed an assistant."

"My assistance wasn't necessary. We both know full well John that you are capable of basic things by yourself." Clara sighed with annoyance, then something clicked. "John, what was your dream about?"

John shifted in his seat. "I'd rather not say…"

"This world is always telling us to listen to our dreams because they are often reflecting our present lives," Clara stated.

"This isn't some _Cinderella_ thing, Clara. _A dream is a wish your heart makes, when you're fast asleep._ Because if that were true, I would be wishing for a 1960's Police Box that _doesn't even have a phone_."

"Strangely specific, John," Clara taunted, she however shook her head. "Well, I think you're right. This definitely isn't a Cinderella issue. Maybe you're just paranoid and have an overactive imagination? John, I don't know. If it bothers you that much, visit Madam Pomfrey. Or talk to Madam Pince. _A trusted adult_."

"I trust you."

Clara was momentarily stunned, and wasn't quite sure what to say next, so she smiled it off. "Thank you, but I don't count. _Adult._ " She picked up the book, and twirled it around her fingers. She caught a glimpse of the back: _In the beloved story of…_ They were silent for a moment, and the air was thick of the awkwardness that accompanied of the stillness.

Clara coughed, "So, are you planning on asking anyone to the dance?"

John seemed very uninterested in this topic. "No. I think I will go _stag_ , something I heard of some others in the dorm."

"Why not ask Luna?"

John shrugged. "I could, but I don't think I would enjoy it."

"Aaw! Why not?"

He shrugged again. "I don't know. It doesn't seem right."

Clara pursed her lips. "Oh, please! She's our friend I'm sure she'd love to go!"

Another shrug. "Okay."

"Thank you!" She squealed in her spot.

John looked at her awkwardly and Clara realized that she had been a bit melodramatic. She too shrugged, which caused a small break of a grin to appear on John's face.

Clara stretched her legs underneath the table. "Well, now that we have had our chit-chat time, I'm going to finish my food," She took a bite and grimaced. "Which is now completely cold."

That very night, Clara walked up the stairs to see many of the girls in the dorm dancing and twirling around, clutching sparkly dresses. On girl looked fondly at a fancy suit in rich black. Clara smiled, figuring the mail must have arrived with some of the girl's dresses.

Other girls however, looked distastefully at one another, not having been invited and too young to participate. Two girls, whom Clara was sure we're not going seemed fine even though they weren't participating.

Someone walked in, and Clara turned to see Ginny happily plopping a box down on her bed. Clara smiled, and walked over to Ginny's bed, along with a couple other girls.

Ginny smiled, "My mum told me that she would have to get a second-hand one, this whole situation kind of being out-of-the-blue and all. So, don't be surprised if it's as ugly as my brother Ron's robe." A few girls laughed.

Hesitantly, Ginny opened the box. Clara and the other leaned in to see a puff of shiny, pink and white dress. Ginny pulled it out.

The dress itself wasn't too bad. It had a mother-of-pearl feel to it; each time the dress moved, ripples of blue and pink flashed over the white-coloured dress. In fact, it sort of resembled the opal stone. Clara did know Ginny well enough for her to know that Ginny was not in love. Ginny liked to show that she was not a silly, eleven-year-old anymore and tended to stray from shiny things.

Nevertheless, Clara could tell that Ginny liked the dress and was intending to keep it. The other girls gawked at the simplest thing, however decided that teasing the girl with the black suit was more fun.

"See? This is _at least_ a _dress!_ "

The girl merely ignored them, and did not show any form of being affected. Instead, she carefully waved her wand and packed the suit away.

"Hm, and she thinks that she can waved that disastrous thing around! This is a dance, girls must wear a dress!"

Clara drew a sharp breath. "Woah, are you enforcing the sexist idea that girls have to wear dresses? Shame on you. Now, why don't you all go to sleep since it's nearly 11 and some of us actually want to do well in school, which is where we are."

The 3rd year girls all backed away, though Clara knew that she would be on the receiving end of the cliques taunts this week.

She shook her head, and sat down on the edge of Ginny's bed, trying her luck.

Ginny clicked her tongue. "Damn, well, you sure showed them! Though, sadly they're not going to care and will most likely continue being the gossiping girls they are."

"Sadly, yeah."

Ginny started to pack away the dress. "Look, I'm sorry that I've been ignoring you."

"Oh, really? I didn't even notice."

"Hmph, well," her cheeks reddened severely, "You _know_ how I feel… And well, I felt," she lowered her voice, "I felt a little betrayed." She laughed, "No, not by you– just by everything. Perhaps, had I declined Neville's offer–"

"Ginny, this is just a dance. These things, are fun and memorable, not supposed to cause you distraught!"

"Damn, Clara you're right."

Clara smiled cheekily. "Always am."

"Suuuuure."

The girls smiled, and talked for a few minutes of the things they had yet to catch up on. At around 11:30, Clara slipped into bed and wondered, A: How was she supposed to get her dress robes? And B: Whether or not she had betrayed Ginny.

Clara decided to focus on Problem A, thinking that it was the easiest, though she really just did not want to think about Problem B.


	26. Christmas Past Comes to Dance

***This is the Christmas chapter featuring the Yule Ball! If you want to see the dress I based Clara's dress off of, C &P this: ****. _**

 ***Also, I just wanted to say Happy Christmas to all of you. This is my gift to you all, so I hope you enjoy. Thanks for the reviews, favourites and follows. Now, without further ado...**

* * *

It was hours until the Yule Ball started, and John hadn't even gotten his dress robes. He thought, perhaps that he could just skip. Though, Clara had reminded him earlier that he had already asked Luna to accompany him, and that that would look mean.

John wasn't quite sure of what he felt when he asked Luna– she was very relatable, however John realized that she didn't have the aura that he so wished. Ginger and Clara teased him mercilessly over the past few days, making kissy faces and hearts with their hands, which aggravated him so. The worst part was that he felt that sinking feeling in his chest as if he had just abandoned _something_.

John was thinking restlessly, and walked down the corridors without much attention. He accidently walked through Peeves, which caused a ruckus as the ghost began chase him down the halls. Truth be told, John quite liked the feeling of being pursued.

He turned a corner, and bumped into Clara herself. He tripped over her leg, and fell down beside her as Clara shouted "MOTHER–" Of course, just then Peeves doused them water, ran away chuckling gleefully,leaving the two spluttering and shivering.

"What–what just happened?" Clara queried.

"It's a bit of a long story, I really don't want to get into it now," John replied gruffly.

"Well," Clara said, rubbing her head, "that hurt, and why was Peeves chasing you?"

"I accidently walked through him."

Clara rubbed her nose. "Well, in that case, you deserved it."

"Thank you, Clara, for those words of utter kindness."

"You're very welcome– What's that?"

John raised an eyebrow, but then realized that there was a high-pitched shriek coming from a few corridors down. It was raspy and sounding as though an animal were being tortured. John immediately gave a look at Clara, "Let's go."

The pair ran in the direction of the shrieks, and again John couldn't help but feel that _rush_. He stopped in his tracks when he met a hallway that was flooded.

Clara shivered, "It's like the Chamber of Secrets events all over again."

John scanned the area, and thought he saw nothing– Except there was movement behind a statue of a knight.

"There," John whispered, and Clara nodded. John inched closer, and heard a muffled gasp from behind that statue.

"It's all right," Clara called out. "Just come out– we won't hurt you."

There was the sound of splashing, and John straightened when he saw a little houself with a red sweater that was made with many holes in it, and a tiny Christmas ornament stuck to its head.

"Oh," Clara said, "What's your name?"

Immediately, the houself began to cry, causing John to tense.

"Oh, not many students have asked Dobby to speak his name! Oh, Dobby is much pleased!" John was taken aback by Dobby's squeaky, raspy voice.

"Lord, you're Dobby!" Clara exclaimed. John was about to say, _Well that was what he just said his name was!_ When it suddenly clicked.

"You're the houself that helped out Harry Potter, right?"

Dobby clapped and cried. "Oh! Harry Potter has spoken of me?" He flailed his arms.

John was unsure of what to do, and Clara looked almost as stricken as he, however shook herself and smiled warmly at Dobby. "Of course he has! You know that Harry considers you as a friend!"

Dobby wiped his eyes with his red sleeve and sniffled. "Oh, thank you miss. May Dobby ask your name?"

"Clara."

"John."

Dobby's eyes widened. "Oh! Yes, Harry Potter has spoken of you!"

John was infinitesimally more intrigued. "Really? What did he say?"

"Dobby visited Harry Potter this morning, and Harry Potter spoke of the dance and how he invited Miss Oswald to it!"

 _By "you" Dobby meant "Clara."_

Dobby shifted his feet. "I must admit, Miss Oswald is quite pretty." He blushed.

John glanced at Clara, who was pink-cheeked but seemingly normal.

Clara cleared her throat. "Dobby… What are you doing here?" She gestured at the huge puddle.

Dobby smiled. "Oh! Dobby was cleaning! Dobby is very good at cleaning, miss!"

"All of this? By yourself?"

"Oh, it isn't much. Dobby is a houself, remember?" With that, Dobby snapped his fingers, and the hallway dried and became much warmer.

John noticed that his clothes were no longer dripping, and the same went for Clara. Clara jerked her head in the direction of John's pockets. John pulled out a cue card that read: _Thank you for_._ "Er, thank you for the help…?"

Clara smacked her head, but Dobby seemed light as the wind. He ran forward, and gave John a hug around the knees.

"Oh, Dobby is much thankful for your gratitude!"

John shimmied his way out of Dobby's grasp. "Okay, no, no. I'm not the huggy type."

"Oh, Dobby sincerely apologizes. Dobby is very sorry."

Clara knelt down. "Oh, don't be sorry, John here is just being rude. _Isn't he_?" She glared in John's direction, John looked up to see what she was staring at, and again Clara sighed.

Dobby smiled again, and wiped his eyes. "Dobby is very grateful for your kind conversation," he shifted his foot. "Not many students would even notice a house elf…" He teared up again. John was getting very tired of the whole happy-sad thing going on.

Clara shook her head quickly. "Oh, please don't cry! It was great finally meeting the Great Dobby! Without you, Harry probably wouldn't have survived."

Dobby this time embraced Clara, who patted him on the back. "Kind miss! Is there anything Dobby could do to assist a friend of Harry Potter's?"

"Actually," John started, "There are a couple things…"

"No! We can't take advantage of him!" Clara snapped. Dobby pulled away and looked hurt.

"Well, he obviously wants to. And what was our situation for the dressing portion of the dance? Ah yes. We have nothing, Clara. I know because you constantly nag about it 24/7."

Clara's cheeks reddened. "Er–"

"Dobby is eager to serve!" Dobby cheered. "Dobby will even do it for no pay!"

"What?" Clara exclaimed. "Oh, no. It's Christmas, so I'll pay you… 5 galleons."

Dobby shrieked. "Oh no! Dobby mustn't accept the quantity! Dobby will do it for free!"

"Three galleons," Clara said firmly.

John tapped his foot impatiently. "Okay, Dobby," he said, and he rummaged into his pockets looking for some spare change, which was difficult as he had put on an Extending Charm on his pockets. John ended up pulling out some contraptions and a toy helicopter he made in his spare time, a scarf with holes in it and some pens and paper. "Here we go!" John declared, as he pulled out on, shiny gold piece. "One galleon!"

Dobby eyed the helicopter and scarf. "Perhaps Dobby could have those?" He pointed at the two object at John's feet.

"Oh, yeah, sure." John handed them to Dobby, ensuring that the houself also got the galleon.

"Thank you! Thank you! Dobby has now received three Christmas gifts. One from Harry Potter, Ron Weasley and now John–"

"Smith."

"Mr. John Smith!"

John shivered at the title.

"Oh, yes," Dobby continued, "Dobby will get to work right away!" He snapped his fingers and disappeared in a loud puff of smoke.

Clara sniffed. "Well, then."

"Interesting, quite interesting."

"I'm glad we ran into him," Clara admitted, "I was walking to McGonagall's just now to ask her to Transfigure something for me. Imagine how awkward that would have been."

"Well, looking at Dobby's taste in raggedy clothes, I'm expecting something wonderful."

Clara gave a look of horror.

"What? I really am."

* * *

The dance was supposed to start at 8 o'clock that evening, so John figured that he had plenty of time to adhese his model of the _Titanic_ together. Afterall, it started in one hour, and who really needed all that time anyway? John had opted to skip out on the activities Clara, Ginger and Luna were partaking in, for pranking the Hogwarts corridors with bustles of mistletoe wasn't his style. Five boys exited the washroom at the end of the dormitories, and groaned.

"This is so–god–damned–itchy!" Ron said, trying to fix his literal scarecrow outfit.

The other boys all looked the same, except for Harry who wore bottle-green robes, but they still looked quite similar. Harry frowned in John's direction. "Are you even going?"

John shrugged, attaching a lifeboat to the side of the ship. "Yeah, but I've got plenty of time."

"We have thirty minutes!" Seamus exclaimed.

"Oh," said John simply. "Well, thirty minutes is a lot of time! Why, I could finish my Titanic model in that time!"

"Yeah, but you'll be late for the dance," Neville pointed out.

An unfamiliar boy suddenly walked in, panting and holding a clear bag with something black inside. "Er," he stuttered, "some girl said to give this John Smith in 4th year?"

John raised his hand. "That would me _moi_ , thank you."

The boy smiled, and ran off. John placed the bag on the edge of his bed. The five other boys looked at him expectantly.

"Oh, you want me to open it?"

"Yes!"

John rolled his eyes, and pulled out a pair of black pants and scowled. "What kind of a gift is this?"

"Those are your dress robes," Harry explained. "Which you should really put on quickly."

"That explains a lot," said John.

It took awhile, but John came out of the bathroom feeling better than usual. Instead of having big, ruffly robes, Dobby had somehow decided that John would look better in a dark red, velvet coat. Dean whistled.

"Well? See, that's alright!" Ron complained. "And I'm here dressed like my bloody Aunt Muriel." He tugged at the lace collar.

"They're not exactly robes, are they?" Neville observed.

"I don't think we have time to worry," Harry noted. "We have fifteen minutes and I'm sure that we will get yelled at if we linger any longer."

The others agreed, so John grabbed his wand and placed it into his coat pocket and followed the boys who exited.

John immediately noticed a change in the Gryffindor common room. People were dressed in all sorts of colours, and little fireworks were whizzing about, too.

John saw Parvati Patil who momentarily blinded him in her robes of bright pink. John groaned, and tried to look for Clara. He looked around, even asked a few students too.

"Have you seen a short girl with a rather large face?"

"Oh my God, John," said Clara's voice behind him. John turned to see Clara, looking a little taller, and her eyes a lot bigger.

"What did you do?" John asked.

Clara put her hands on her hips, "This is the part where you're supposed to compliment me?" She spun around, causing the red dress she was wearing to twirl around.

John had to admit, Clara looked _nice_. Her face which was usually blotchy was now evened out with what John presumed was makeup. Her hair had been elongated to have a loose bun on her head. Though, her hair in John's opinion resembled that of a bird's nest.

Clara's dress was in a crimson colour, with red, lace that covered the top of her chest. The lace extended down into sleeves. Her actual dress was seemingly made out of a silky material that ended just below her knees.

"See, usually when a boy is speechless, I take it as a good thing. But I get the feeling now that you're judging me."

"Maybe because I am."

"Oh, well in that case you look nice John. Velvet suits you. Haha, get it?"

"Clara, you are embarrassing me."

"John, when will you learn that you are an embarrassment to even be around?"

"You obviously haven't learned' you're still here."

Clara smiled. "That was pretty good." Her smile evaporated. "What time is it?"

"7:56."

"Damn! I was supposed to meet Harry six minutes ago!"

"That's only six minutes–"

"Aren't you the one who constantly says that even a minute is long as eternity? Let's go!" She pulled John's hand out the common room and down the corridors, her white shoes clacking against the stone floor.

"Hey, let go! I do the hand-grabbing–" they turned on an abrupt corner. John broke free of her grasp and jogged to the entrance hall, which was basically just a mob.

Clara gasped, and beckoned Ron over. "Have–you–seen–Harry?"

Ron was followed by Parvati's twin Padma, who was wearing bright, turquoise robes. She eyed Clara curiously.

Ron nodded. "Yeah, er– Harry!"

Harry walked over awkwardly. He glanced at Clara, momentarily froze, then smiled sheepishly.

"Er–you–look–great," he managed.

Clara smiled. "Thanks. Sorry for being late–"

John turned when he felt a light tap on his shoulder. He saw Luna in a dark blue dress that didn't go well with her pale skin. She looked sickly. However, John did notice the bright smile she wore.

"Oh, thank you for bringing me. I'm sure the dance will be wonderful." She looked in the direction of the ceiling, so did John, hoping to see something interesting, but no. "I know you don't think I look very nice."

John could tell that this was one of Luna's moments of awkward truth.

"What? No!" It wasn't really a lie. He was mesmerized by the colour of the dress– the dark blue wisps– The soothing wheezing and groans from the distance–

John shook himself out of his reverie. He awkwardly linked arms with Luna, and was momentarily saddened by her short height. Perhaps it was because John was too tall…

The doors to the Great Hall swung open. John walked in along with all the others. McGonagall, dressed in red tartan robes announced the champions to prepare to dance.

John watched the champions ready themselves, and noticed that the girl next to Krum looked suspiciously familiar… He caught Clara quickly mouthing ' _Hermione'_ in Krum's direction, which confused John greatly, until… Well once the music started John was able to catch a glimpse of Krum's date (Hermione) who was looking well dressed in a blue, wispy dress.

Luna seemed to have vanished, and John was left alone. He sat down at a table, and looked at a menu, and saw decided that salad would suit him just fine. Of course, he got some fancy dish, which John didn't even know was possible because he just wanted _salad_. John chewed slowly, and sat tiredly.

Something brushed passed John, and he turned to see a black tuft in his peripheral vision. He smelled a soothing scent, and almost, _almost_ smiled. By now, John had finished eating, and everyone else began to dine. Luna sat down next to him, smiling. She said something, which John couldn't quite catch over the horrid music.

"You're not listening to me," Luna said, with a dreamy smile.

"Hm?"

Clara sat down next to Luna, an evident smile sprawled over her face. "He's always like that." She grabbed a menu and frowned. "Was there anything good you ate, John?"

"Yeah, the reindeer stew was great."

"What?! Oh."

Harry, Ron and Padma joined. John noticed the faint smile on Harry's face, and looked of utter annoyance on Ron's.

The others got engaged in a conversation about something, but again John shivered when he felt the air around him change. He noticed a mass of caramel-blonde-coloured curls from the crown dancing. He rubbed his nose.

Ginny and Neville eventually joined them too. However, Hermione and Viktor Krum sat at a different table, which was where Ron constantly had his eyes on.

He saw the curly-haired girl exit the Great Hall, and John suddenly filled with curiosity, excused himself and followed her out the Great Hall.

The girl was tall, John noticed. Her dress was a shiny black. Though, he was only seeing her back. John followed her outside, where it was snowing lightly. The white powder set in her hair nicely.

She turned around, causing John to back into the outside wall of Hogwarts. She was so familiar… Her face was something he recognized, something that he sometimes drew when he wasn't even thinking.

"It's not nice to follow people," she said matter-of-factly.

"Who are you?"

"I'm sure you know," she was still a few feet away from him. She walked closer. Her curls bounced atop her head.

"Do you see the forest?" She pointed into the dark horizon, where there was the faint outlines of dark trees.

"Barely," John muttered.

The girl– no woman, John realized, leaned in. "Your Christmas _Past_ : You're going to live happily ever after, but you need to remember!" She smiled sadly, and whispered in his ear. "The only water in the forest is the river." John looked at her, stunned, but she had disappeared. Vanished, without trace. No smoke, or spark, or wheezing, just gone.

John collapsed against the wall slowly. He sat in the cold reminiscing of the dream he had. Clara had said that she was like Marley… But this woman… He sighed as he smelled her perfume in the wind, and for the first time in years, he felt the stinging of _water_ in his eyes.


	27. It Begins

***Well, I wish you all a very happy New Year! I think most of us would agree 2016 was a shitty year, but I had a lot of fun writing. Time with my friends was fun and (sorta) well spent and I'm lucky to live in a 1st world country. I hope that 2016 isn't an omen of what's to come. We've lost so many people this year, most recently Carrie Fisher and Debbie Reynolds. Love them all, and I hope that 2017 is fantastic for us all.**

 **Spraying you with warm, floofy sheep,**

 **Sheepishly101**

* * *

Clara watched as John's figure left the Great Hall. For a split second, she wondered what he was doing, though she dismissed it as him being bored with the ball. Clara, however was definitely not bored. Yes, Harry was not the best dancer, Clara could feel that on her feet, but it was so much fun all the same.

The music was pretty good, considering they had a professional band playing. Clara had never heard of the Weird Sisters until Ginny, who was an avid fan. Clara didn't particularly like the songs, but she admired the talent.

"Oh, I remember my first signs of magic!" Ginny declared. "I had caused Ron to temporarily blind himself."

"No," Ron argued, "You _poked_ me." He crossed his arms defiantly. "And I wasn't blinded."

Ginny crossed her arms too. "Really? Then why are you staring off into the distance like a blind man?" She pointed in the direction of where Ron had been staring at all night. "Oh, right. There."

Clara saw Hermione sitting next to Viktor Krum with an obvious grin on her face. She was looking quite pretty too. Her periwinkle blue dress seemed to be made of air, and Hermione looked like she had had a fair bit of helium herself. The normally bookish, frizzy-haired girl was now laughing exuberantly, and pushing now silky curls of hair behind her ear.

Harry shook his head, laughing, "You wouldn't believe what Ron said. I quote, 'Hermione, you're a girl,' to which 'Hermione responded with, 'well spotted!"

The table laughed, and Clara watched as Ron's face reddened.

"Oh, shut up, will you?" Ron snapped.

They continued to talk and laugh and have a great time. John still hadn't returned, and by now Clara was pretty sure he had gone to bed. Clara felt a rush of annoyance when she realized that he had left Luna.

"So, how's the dance?" Clara asked her, as they stepped away from the tables. Clara had finished her meal ages ago.

Luna smiled. "Oh, I think it's fantastic, though there seems to be a fair bit amount of Wrackspurts…"

Clara nodded. "Okay. Sorry about John leaving and all that. He really does not understand social cues."

"Oh, that's okay. I'm not very upset."

"Well, you really shouldn't be upset at all."

"Hm, no I mean that I feel bad for John," Luna replied airily.

Clara narrowed her eyes. "What?"

"He really doesn't seem to be well. I think he's sick."

Clara frowned, perhaps that's why he hadn't returned… "Excuse me, I've gotta go–" Harry appeared in front of her. His face was pink.

"Er, we need to dance…"

Clara mentally slapped herself. "Right, okay, yes."

The four champions and their dates walked up to the dance floor, and Clara felt very self conscious as she realized three schools were staring at them.

"You need to put your hand on my waist," Clara reminded Harry quietly.

"What?" he asked, alarmed.

"It's the formal dance, now hurry up!"

The music started, and Clara practically did the dancing for both of them, but it was still fun. Awkward, though, too. Their first dance had been exciting, this one was causing Clara to feel flustered as she was very close to Harry. She was sure her face was red.

Clara caught a glimpse of Ginny and Neville joining in, and smiled a look of encouragement to Ginny.

The song ended, and Harry looked at Clara sheepishly as another sing began. "We can keep dancing if you like."

Clara shook her head. "Nah, I'm good." She sensed Harry relax in relief.

They walked back to Ron, who had lost his date. To add to the party, Hermione also arrived.

"Viktor's gone to get drinks," Hermione said as she fanned her face.

"Oh, he hadn't gotten you to call him _Vicky_ yet?" Ron said sharply.

"What's got your wand in a knot?" Hermione asked in surprise. Clara bit her lip and refrained from commenting.

"If you don't know, then I won't tell you," Ron snapped.

"I'm going," Clara suddenly declared. "Hermione's right, drinks would be nice."

Harry's brows shot up, "I'll go with you."

The pair walked away to have Hermione called after them, "What? And leave me to deal with _him_?"

"Hey!"

"Oh, you _shut up_ , Ronald!"

Clara winced at the argument she was backing away from. She noticed Percy Weasley bustling over with determined visage, when Harry pulled her arm, muttering, "Let's go." She could tell that any conversation with Percy was probably going to be boring.

They tried to move themselves away from the crowd and ended up bumping into many, many people. Percy caught up to them.

"Have you interacted with any of the other students, Harry?" he asked.

"Er, no, haven't gotten a chance to," Harry replied lamely.

Clara felt Percy's eyes drift over to her direction. "Well," he added, "You should meet some of them! That's the whole point of this event! International magical cooperation. I noticed your friend Hermey has made acquaintances with Viktor Krum! You should definitely meet him."

"First of all, it's _Hermione,_ " Clara cut in, "And second, I think I'll go meet Krum right now. Care to join, Harry?"

"Sure, Clara."

"Nice chatting with you, Percy," Clara said as she began to edge away from him.

"Oh, thank God," Harry breathed as they sneaked out of the Great Hall.

Clara smiled, "No, thank me. I just saved our arses from a four hour lecture about _international magical cooperation."_ Clara's grin faded, however once she realized that they were alone. Something that in the past usually ended in awkwardness. They walked outside to an area with rosebushes and a fountain.

"Sh!" Clara whispered harshly.

"What?"

"Listen!"

"... Don't see what there is to fuss about, Igor."

"Severus, you cannot pretend it isn't happening!" Clara heard Karkaroff's anxious, but hushed voice. "It's been getting clearer and clearer–"

"Then flee," Snape said sharply. "I will form your excuses. I however, will stay at Hogwarts."

"Back away!" Clara whispered, and the two turned around and walked away from the voices that were getting closer.

"And you two?" Snape snapped.

Clara turned around. "We were just walking."

"Well keep walking!" Snape said curtly. He then stormed in between Clara and Harry, pushing them apart. Karkaroff followed Snape. Clara rubbed her arm distastefully.

"I wonder what has got Karkaroff so anxious… Besides being in Snape's general presence, of course."

They continued walking in silence, Clara getting progressively colder but not bothering to mention it. The snow outside looked like fairy dust under the moonlight, and Clara didn't want to leave. A stone reindeer stood in a court, but what was more surprising were the two gigantic people sitting on a stone bench outside.

"Momen' I saw you, I knew…" sad the unmistakable voice of Hagrid, somewhat more huskily now.

Clara and Harry froze. Clara got the feeling that this wasn't something they should listen in on. Luckily, Harry thought the same thing, and gently tugged her away to a nearby rosebush. She tiptoed her way over, and gagged at the sight of Fleur Delacour and Hogwarts student Roger Davies swapping saliva while she sneaked away.

When they were out of earshot, Clara shook her head and said, "Well, those two probably aren't coming back to the dance."

Harry froze. "Er, do you want to go back?"

Clara put on a fake face of deep-thought. "Hm, I don't think so. It's nice here." She pointed at the sky which twinkled with little diamonds. There was a slight breeze, and Clara's crimson dress danced around her knees. She grabbed Harry's hand, "Come on," she urged.

They went into a little garden with a pool that had been charmed to not freeze. Clara wiped away some snow from a bench. She sat down, making room for Harry to join her. Clara swing her legs slightly and tipped her head up to feel the snow on her face. It was cold, yes, but nice all the same. She soon realized that it was the perfect condition for a first kiss.

"It's–it's…" Harry stuttered.

"It's beautiful," Clara finished. "Look at the way the stars shine! Wouldn't you just kill for a chance to see them up close?" she breathed in the snowy air. "And it's a lot better to look at here, too. In the city… Well you can barely see a single star. I really do feel bad for all of those people in high-populated cities. To not be able to see this," Clara gestured to the sky.

"You don't talk much about your home," Harry said slowly.

Clara shrugged. "Not much to tell. I live in Blackpool, nice place. I'm very conflicted, though. See, I would love to live in London, but how would I see the stars well then?"

"That is an issue," Harry admitted.

Clara got on her knees to dip her fingers into the pool. The water was warm, must've been the charm. Clara watched in slight awe as the reflection of the night sky rippled around her touch. For a second, she imagine herself in control of the universe; making it bend and wave like her fingers did to the pool image.

She sighed, and sat back on the bench. "And you?" she asked Harry.

He went pink and fidgety. "Er… Well, there's not much to tell about where I live. I'm close to London, though. I can't see the sky very well there though."

"And your family?" she queried.

"They're just Muggles. My cousin– Dudley– is a right real pain though."

Clara felt her heart sink as she realized that there was something he wasn't telling her.

"And your family?" Harry asked, before his eyes widened. "Oh, I'm sorry."

"Harry, my mum died. She's not _unmentionable_. I think you understand that. Anyway, I live with my father, who is fascinated with Muggles. I think that's why I've adopted so much knowledge about them. Other than that… I don't get around to talking with my Gran… or with any other people. I mostly just ride around town all day on my bike."

"I would've expected you to hang out with all your friends."

"Well, there _is_ Angie. And Nina…" Clara frowned. "I almost forgot about Nina." Clara flushed at the memory of Nina being her first fancy.

Harry ran his fingers through his hair. "Er… What about that Danny guy?"

"Hm?"

"In your first year, you mentioned a friend– Danny."

Clara gave a surprised chuckle, but her stomach turned. "What? And you still remember that?"

"Kind of?"

"No, no. Danny and I… Well, I guess you could say we drifted apart." The words tasted like metal as she spoke them. "A long… long ago." Clara was suddenly increasingly mesmerized by the snow falling. It was in her hair, everywhere but she didn't feel the cold. Instead, a feeling of warmth was spreading throughout her stomach. She inexplicably smiled. All previous thoughts of perhaps snogging Harry were vanishing.

Instead, Clara imagined Danny, how awkward he was; how tall he was; how she was able to look him do math problems on paper and ask her whether or not they were too difficult for fourteen-year-olds.

She snapped out of her thoughts as a particularly cold flake touched her back. She squirmed. Harry's eyes widened as he frantically brushed the snow off her, muttering about how it was snowing a lot.

He suddenly froze as he and Clara realized that Harry's hands were on her waist. And while perhaps earlier Clara would've been more than happy with her current position, Clara was feeling very nervous.

See, this was supposedly going to be her first kiss. But, that was the issue. She felt _wrong_ , in every fibre of her being. Wrong in the sense that she finally realized that the athletic boy with dark skin, and an aptitude for math was what she yearned for. Clara looked up, realizing that Harry had closed his emerald eyes and was slowly leaning in…

She wanted to, but she knew it was wrong. Clara's breath hitched and–

"Clara?"

Clara gasped with part relief and astonishment. She whipped her body around to see John standing there, covered in snow with a slightly angered look on his face.

John walked over so that he was standing a few feet away. Clara felt the hands on her waist retract.

"Please," said John in a slightly croaky voice, "If I'm keeping you from something, please continue."

"John, _please_ go away," said Clara. The situation was already too awkward.

John was staring at the pool, his gaze shot up. "Oh, sorry, I wasn't talking so I didn't bother to pay attention."

"Christ, go away–" She stopped mid-sentence. Something was very, very wrong indeed. She examined John, realizing that he had undone his tie around his neck and that his big, dark eyes were perfectly reflecting the pool. She saw a mini galaxy swirling around in there and realized that his eyes were watery.

"Stars, have you been _crying_ –"

John stumbled back. "What? I don't know what fantasy world you're living in. Go back to your snog-fest."

Clara's face went warm. "John–" she warned. But he was walking away now, letting his velvet coat flap in the wind. Clara turned toward Harry. "Right, I'm really sorry, but I need to go after him."

Harry opened his mouth, but Clara ran off, cursing the fact that heels were basically torture devices. She followed John inside the castle, where he started down a corridor.

"John!"

He sped up.

"Would you please just stop!"

John stopped and turned around. Now that they weren't outside, Clara could see his eyes were red and glassy. He maybe didn't cry, but it was more emotion in one glance than Clara had ever seen before. He looked so sad and distraught, which absolutely broke Clara's heart.

Clara sat against the corridor wall, beckoning John to join her. He did.

"John, it's Christmas. Why on Earth would you be sad?"

"Last year," John said in a forced voice. "You said that every Christmas was last Christmas. I think I understand now."

"What?" She fiddled with her dress. "John, you're not making any sense!"

"Have you seen things? Things you couldn't explain?"

"Okay, I think you've gone to crazy-town–"

"Listen to me when I speak, Clara!" John yelled, but it was more like a plea. He sucked in a breath. "Remember that dream I told you about? With the ghost? She– you mentioned something about burdens. She also said that she might visit me. I think– well, the woman I saw said that she was from my past. Resembling the Charles Dickens story, right?"

Clara nodded, slightly confused.

"Well, I remember her! Almost remember…"

"What are you saying?"

"Clara, you are much too involved in my physical and mental life for me to ignore this: something is missing. And I think we've both almost known for quite a while."

Clara cursed under her breath. She remembered the feeling of it all being wrong when she was with Harry. And the man… Danny! Already names were slipping away.

"John," Clara said firmly, "What do we do?'

He gave her a blank look.

" _What do we do?_ "

His shoulders slumped. And Clara realized that maybe this woman he saw was just as special to him as the nameless man Clara sometimes saw in her head. Without really thinking about it, she hugged him.

"I–don't–like–hugs!"

"You don't get a say."

"Gerroff!"

"No, John. I really don't think either of us want to look at eachother right now." Clara felt her eyes sting.


	28. Can You Hear

***So, I haven't updated in like... 2 weeks? Sorry about that. It's called procrastination and trying to make (probably useless) Google Sites. Enjoy this chapter though.**

* * *

It was Boxing Day morning and John had not slept even a wink that night. He usually only slept for a couple hours, but this predicament required all of John's attention. He had seen in Clara's eyes when they had pulled away from their embrace. The way her big, brown eyes had never look so sad for she knew that he was right. This world was wrong. What made it wrong was what John had been trying to figure out all night.

That feeling swept through his veins: the one that seemed to constrict your blood flow but added more fun to the situation. He felt a pressure build up in his head, and he rubbed his temples. This wasn't working. He needed a library.

Quickly changing out of his dancing clothes, which he had ignored, or rather put off, John walked out of the dorm. It was still early morn, and none of the other boys had woken up. John did notice that Neville had come in quite late and Harry had been in bed before everyone else, eyeing his golden egg.

 _Harry_. The thought almost irritated him. He remembered with slight annoyance how he had been so _close_ to Clara. He wasn't that stupid, though. He was quite positive that Clara would've been able to jinx him if necessary, or physically harm him. She was getting quite good at slapping.

However, the way that it all seemed so wrong. Almost inappropriate. He had noticed that there was some… attraction betwixt them, however, he had shrugged it off as regular teenage drama. Something he had tried to do with this case, however with biting madness John knew that Clara had someone else. Not Harry, just someone. He assumed that Clara deep down knew this too, but thought that perhaps it would hurt too much. Just as well, he was dealing with the same issue. John shook his head, he knew something was suppressing John's capacity to remember certain facts and figures.

As he walked through the almost empty common room, John noticed a girl with blonde hair gasping.

"Merlin!"

John raised an eyebrow and continued on his way (Where to? When did he ever know?). However, the girl got up from her seat and ran right into John.

"Are you blind or something?" John snapped.

The girl was quite short, and her face was annoyingly round. She opened her mouth, and John noticed a gap between her top front teeth.

"Sorry, I just had to tell my friend! Have you seen the Prophet?"

"No," said John irritably, "I have not. I've been pacing around my dorm trying to figure out why this world does not make any sense! Also why the hell my best friend and I somehow cannot even remember certain names or people, or facts! To add on, why the moon hasn't hatched into a giant alien spider! What year is it?" John panted.

"You're crazy," said the girl blankly. "And it's 1994, by the way."

"Oh, good."

"What makes 1994 good?"

"Nothing."

"It'll be 1995 in a few days."

"Right, and how is Mexico's financial state again?"

" _What?"_

John waved his hands, "No, nevermind. Wait. What was in the Prophet?"

"The news?"

John gave her an irritated look. "What type of news?"

The girl lit up. "Oh, I was going to tell my friend N–"

John angled his head so that he could see the Prophet headline: _**Dumbledore's Giant Mistake.**_ He snatched the prophet from her.

"Hey!"

John scanned the article in a couple seconds. "Says here that Hagrid is a half-giant."

"Really?" said the girl, wide-eyed.

John put the paper down. "How did you not know?"

"Well, I was going to tell my mate that our favourite Quidditch team is going to make an appearance soon–"

"Right, and so you just decided to ignore the bold letters about Dumbledore?"

"No. I was going to read that after," the girl said defensively.

"Alright, well go tell your friend whatever news it is about the team."

The girl shrugged. "Whatever. Also, did I mention that you are crazy?" She walked to the girls' dormitories.

John rolled his shoulders and breathed in deeply. He _had_ heard Hagrid and the other enormous lady talking last night when he had been wandering outside. John already had guessed that perhaps Hagrid was part-giant, and the previous night had confirmed it. Though, he could tell that Madame Maxime was not amused with this fact.

Wrinkling his nose as it tickled with durst, John set out. It was only around 8 in the morning, and everyone was probably recovering from the tiring night. John decided that the Gryffindor common room was too bright, so he left and took to the hallways in hopes of some clearing up. In truth, deep down John wondered that maybe he would be able to see those people from before again. He refused to call them ghosts, no matter how ghost-like they were.

As John walked down the corridors, he had realised that the feeling of his surroundings being wrong and increased tenfold. There was a strong pulsing throughout his whole body, causing the world to pulsate too.

The bright light that streamed through the windows caused shadows which John inexplicably jumped over ar avoided altogether. He was suddenly very aware of his own breathing and backed away from a stone statue of a knight.

Not really knowing it, John had walked out to a courtyard. It was empty, and the snow that blanketed the ground was blinding with the snow reflecting off it. What was usually a bustling court, was now silent. John stuffed his hands in his pockets, noticing the way his breath came out quietly and calmly; the atmosphere unnerved him.

Biting the insides of his cheeks, John sat down in the now, completely ignoring the stone bench next to him. The snow melted and stung his leg, and John almost pulled his wand out to warm himself, but that didn't seem right.

Gulping, John looked out, trying to see if anyone would join him. He rubbed his wrist and temples as if trying to soothe his crazy heartbeat. Clara had once exclaimed that she wanted to bad for there to be a music soundtrack for her life. He had explained to her that she already had a soundtrack.

" _Wouldn't it be so cool, though?" Clara had asked._

" _What?" he replied._

" _Having a soundtrack of your life? Like music constantly playing in the background? Like, fast-paced music when we're in the face of danger, and slow music when everything is calm and happy."_

 _He narrowed his eyes in a confused manner. "Clara, we already have a soundtrack."_

" _I mean, music that is only connected to you. Like Darth Vader's light-motif."_

" _You are interested in the strangest of things."_

 _Clara shrugged, but he continued. "Here, give me your hand." Clara gave him an odd look but obliged. Feeling her pulse, he explained, "Can't you hear it? Listen carefully. Your heartbeat is always there. Slow, and steady like right now when you're calm. But when you're suddenly in a moment if action, WHAM! You can feel it pump faster, the energy course through you. It is louder and more action-filled than ever before."_

 _Clara looked in awe at her wrist for a second. "Yeah, but do I get a special theme whenever I do something wrong, or something funny?"_

 _Clara smiled at his irritated look. Suddenly, the room they were in jolted._

"What _was that?" Clara asked, unamused._

" _Probably the TARDIS acting up again," he replied, flipping a blue switch, and then turning a black rotator._

John breathed out, feeling warm, but also cold all over. He tried to recall the memory, but only the gist of it remained. He knew that Clara had asked him about music, and John had explained about her pulse but– that was it.

He looked at his wrist which was red from being rubbed against. John heard the music pick speed.


	29. The Hard Confession

*** So, I have been slacking in my upload rates for the past weeks, so I apologise. I think it's because my friends got me into the Avatar series and I'm crying because I'm an addict. Anyway, here is my newest update right before Chinese New Year (unless you're in China in which case Happy Late Chinese New Year!)**

They were four weeks into January, and it was almost February, and Clara felt as though she had to be cautious around everything. She had noticed that Harry was avoiding her, which she couldn't blame him for. She had left him and run off with John. Clara nearly smacked herself for doing so. However, after her talk with John, she had realised something… She was not going to deny the fact that yes, she had taken a fancy to Harry, but now she felt all that flush away. He was only a few inches taller than her, and Clara always got the feeling when she looked at him now that there was also a ghost there that was a little less than a foot taller than her. Like a little shadow to remind Clara that no matter how hard she tried, Harry Potter was not the one for her. At least she wouldn't have to worry about Ginny.

Clara had not told her ginger friend of what John and she theorised, they would sound mental.

"Hey, friend? You know how we've been through a lot together? Well, turns out this whole world seems to actually be inherently wrong and every time I look at you, all I see is somebody I barely even know."

Part of Clara wanted to tell Ginny, but how would that pass? Ginny had literally been possessed by Voldemort, and if she thought that Clara or John had some weird thoughts running through their heads…

She shook herself and tried to concentrate on her homework. Clara hadn't spoken too much with John, either. He seemed to be in the library more often than Hermione and was starting to look severely dishevelled. She wouldn't be surprised if he walked out his dorm with his pants on his head.

Clara caught a glimpse of a Daily Prophet segments with moving pictures that were highly distracting. The news that had been circulating for weeks now, was still hitting the press. Clara did know how that reporter Rita Skeeter had gotten the hold on any information about Hagrid, for he seemed to live off the grid. Clara missed Hagrid's teaching, he was fun, though she could not deny the fact that she definitely learned more with Professor Grubbly-Plank.

It was John, though who was more affected by Hagrid's dismissal.

"I mean, getting rid of Hagrid because of his race–"

"He's part-giant!" Ron pointed out.

"It's the 21st century and obviously Dumbledore trusts him!"

"It's the 20th century, John," Hermione had said irritably.

John paid no heed and continued to rant. "This is so inexplicably–"

"Racist?" Clara offered, stretching the word for effect.

"Yes!"

It was then that they were interrupted when Harry walked into the room, with his golden egg in hand and hair wet.

Ron raised his eyebrows. "You left for a bath at 8… it's now almost 11."

"I had some issues," he clutched his egg tighter. "I ran into Snape and Moody on my way back here."

Ron and Hermione lost all interest in John's rant and listened to what Harry had to say. John didn't notice the lack of attention.

Clara snapped herself back to the present and decided that her work was less important than much-needed sleep. She got all her things together, and went to her dorm, got into her pyjamas and tucked herself in. She was the only one in bed at the moment.

She stared at the ceiling, at recited Marcus Aurelius quotes in her head to try to get her to sleep. Later finding that although she was tired, sleep was a difficult thing to come by. She recited some songs in her head, like _Somewhere Over the Rainbow_ , _Dancing Queen_ , and _Wildest Dreams_. Clara couldn't quite remember the words to the last one, but she knew the melody and the fact that it had come out in 1989… No, Clara tapped her chin as she struggled to remember the words and date. Deciding that she was stressing over nothing, Clara though that maybe counting sheep would be a good idea.

… 1

… 2

… 3

… 4

… 5

… 10

… 35

… 77

… 18

… 349

Blackness succumbed her, and for the first time in ages, Clara felt as though she had had a good night's rest. Lately, nightmares were filling her dreams. Montages of horrible monsters, flashing lights, screaming and yelling filled her head. Tonight, tonight was silent. And although that was somewhat reassuring, Clara again felt that throbbing ache of _not knowing_.

To not know was a feeling Clara couldn't describe. They always said knowledge is power, but Clara couldn't trust anything as being fact or not. Alternative facts were basically what her life was made up of at the moment…

But the morning was here, and Clara forced herself to leave the sanctuary of her bed early. Clara felt a warm dampness on her neck and forehead. Sweat. Perhaps she _did_ have a nightmare, and she just forgot. That happens all the time, with _regular people_.

Clara decided to wash her face in the bathroom, and brush her teeth, getting ready for class today. Her muscles were lame in the morning, and she dribbled toothpaste all over her chin. She wiped the toothpaste off with a towel and put her toothbrush in a glass cup. She tilted her head up so that she could see herself better.

But her reflection wasn't her. In a surprise, Clara knocked the cup down, sending glass to the ground. Clara thanked the stars she wore slippers, but the mess was outstanding. She probably woke her dorm mates, too.

Biting her lip, Clara avoided the mirror and jumped over the shattered glass to try to get her wand, next to her bed. She would have to walk through the whole dorm. Quietly slipping her way through the dorm, Clara retrieved her wand and was able to clean the mess. She avoided the mirror.

"Do you need help?" a voice asked, Clara jumped.

"Nah, I'm good," Clara said to Ginny, who stood by the doorway with a smirk on her face.

"Really? Because that gigantic mess on the ground from just a few seconds ago would say otherwise."

Clara crossed her arms. "I just knocked my stuff down, no big deal."

"And woke up like, half the dorm!"

"Well, glass falling to a hard floor _does_ tend to be pretty loud."

Ginny's smile faded. "No, I mean–," she paused, "Clara, are you alright?"

"Er… yeah? Why?"

"You were talking in your sleep, and, I don't think any of the other girls heard you but," she stopped to choose her words carefully.

"But what?"

Ginny sighed. "Are you really over last year's incident with the Dementors? I mean, that's pretty traumatic. You were hospitalized–"

"I'm absolutely fine!" Clara snapped. She caught Ginny's gaze and lowered her voice, "And just because I talk in my sleep doesn't mean that I am suffering from anything!"

"You sound defensive," Ginny noted.

"Yeah, because I have a right to defend myself from false accusations!"

Ginny shook her head, defeated. "Look, all I'm asking is if you're okay."

"Why? What could I have possibly said to worry you?"

"Remember when you taught me some Muggle words?"

Clara raised her eyes in confusion, "Yes…"

"You kept saying the word ' _Doctor'_ over and over… And I thought that maybe it was because you needed a healer–"

"That was a _shit_ deduction, and you are not Sherlock Holmes," Clara spat back, wincing slightly at her own words.

Ginny put her hands on her hips. "Okay, calm the attitude. I have no idea what you just said, first of all. Also, I'm, trying to be a good friend! Unlike you, who have ignored me for a month! I don't really care if you're seeing Harry–"

A feeling of disgust rose in Clara's throat, " _Why_ would I be seeing Harry?"

"Do I look like an idiot?" Ginny hissed. "I see the glances between you two!"

"We're friends!"

"Yeah, so are we! So why is it that you can't tell me what is going on?"

"Because I don't know!" Clara yelled.

"We'll figure it out because all I have tried to do is be your friend. So just, talk to me."

Clara hadn't even realised the blurry vision that was starting in her eyes from all the rage. "I don't–" she started, "I don't understand why it is that I can only speak what I have in my head when I'm angry. I'm just so– so frustrated."

"With what?" Ginny said harshly, but now quieter.

"With everything. You know, first Harry almost kissed me on Christmas–"

"Wait, what?"

"– But it all seems so wrong? Just that gut feeling in my stomach of looking at everything, at you," Clara suppressed the threatening tears. "You are the best friend anybody could have asked for," Clara said finally, "And I don't deserve you. And I have been such a bitch."

"Don't say that," Ginny said, taking a tentative step toward her. Then another, and another so that soon she wrapped her arms around Clara, hugging her warmly. "I am owed an apology."

"Sorry," Clara said quietly into her friend's hair which smelled quite nice…

"Well," Ginny said, "Now that we have got that out of our systems…"

Clara nodded. "I think I'm ready to get ready for school today."

Ginny dropped her arms and wrinkled her nose. "I almost forgot. Well, from almost killing each other to Potions class."

"We did not almost kill each other!"

"Look in the mirror, you look insane."

Clara turned, and again, rather than seeing herself saw somebody different. She stumbled back.

"What?" asked Ginny, worried.

"Nothing," said Clara in hopes of ensuring her friend didn't send her to a mental hospital. "Just, I look _awful_."

Ginny patted Clara's head. "Yep, you do."

"You're supposed to comfort me!" Clara complained.

"Um, no. Since you yelled at me for like five minutes straight, you are not getting any consolement today."

Clara followed Ginny out of the bathrooms. Ginny frowned.

"What?" asked Clara.

"Oh, the rest of the girls are probably going to spread gossip about us all day today."

Clara swore under her breath quietly.


	30. Run, Run, Run

***So um... It's been two weeks since I updated. anyway, I'm not gonna lie, it's because I procrastinate like crazy. It's snowing like crazy here and I had to shovel snow today which made my want to cry because Canadian weather is so up-and-down. Mini-rant complete!**

* * *

February 24th, the day had come. Today was the date of the second task, and the whole school was up and buzzing about it. John, however, was not. Yes, he was going to attend, but only because Clara had forced him into it. And at the moment, he needed to be with her. He had needed to be with her since Christmas since everything had gone awry. The fact that she was his best friend and he could not stand the way that she sometimes looked at Ginger in an almost longing way. Not to say that he had any sort of… _romantic_ feelings for her. Perhaps he did when he was _11_ , but that was years ago. When he had first met her in the Hogwarts Great Hall.

No, the fact that she confided more in Ginger, rather than him made John feel jealousy rise in his throat. The other problem was that sometimes John looked at things and connected them in weird ways. He avoided statues and no longer stayed in the library after dark.

The second task was to start in twenty minutes, and he was sure that everybody was probably already at the Great Lake. Not able to procrastinate any longer, John headed out of the empty dorm and walked through the silent corridors. His walk turned into a jog, his jog into a run. He was sprinting, finally free of all the teachers and students that often crowded the halls.

" _BOO!"_

John halted, and pulled out his wand aiming it at the air. He turned to see Moaning Myrtle hovering a few feet away from him. She had a big smile on her face.

"Oh, you should've seen your face," the girl cackled in her high-pitched voice. John cringed and lowered his wand.

"I would've assumed that everybody was at the tournament," Myrtle continued, she floated closer and John took a step back, "what are you doing roaming these empty halls?"

"Well, I was about to go to the second event, except that you decided to _rudely_ interrupt me. Now, I'll be going-"

Myrtle hiccuped loudly causing John to refrain from leaving. He gave an irritated glare to the girl, who smiled sheepishly and giggled.

"Well, there's no need for you to go, it's probably already started. Plus, you're just going to be looking at water for an hour."

She did have a point, John thought, however, he had promised Clara… "Then I'll just be late, now I'm _going_ to go-" He stalked off, but again was interrupted as Myrtle floated straight through him. It was an awkward sensation that caused John to cringe.

"Did I do something, or–"

Myrtle growled. "Yes, yes you did. I remember when you were younger, years and years ago-"

"We met two years ago!" John inserted, but she paid no heed.

"–And now nobody will even say a little 'hello!' It's terribly lonely being a ghost _if you haven't noticed!_ "

"No, I have not noticed because incidentally, I am not a ghost."

Myrtle was shaking. "Alright here, I know your type!"

" _My type?"_

"The type that doesn't care about sweet, little, _dead_ Myrtle!" Her nose flared and John was slowly backing away. She swooped forward again and yelled, "I am _terribly_ lonely and yet nobody seems to care!"

"Well, since I don't care, I'll be leaving now."

She stomped her foot. "You know being a ghost has its advantages!"

"Sneaking up on people in the bath?"

The ghost paused, colourful and she blushed. At least, it _looked_ like a blush. Ghosts don't tend to colourful people.

Myrtle then narrowed her eyes and said, "No. I mean I can go to places most people can't. Probably the only perk to being a ghost." Her eyes got misty.

"Well, that sounds utterly fantastic! You know what else is really fun? Watching a lake for an hour, so I need to go…"

She giggled like crazy. "I found something!" she said it in a sing-song voice. "Oh, I was just crying and thinking about my death when… All of a sudden I hear a moan. I thought that I got a friend! I went looking for it and wound up in some long-lost corridor. I don't think anybody had been there for centuries! Even the path to it was blocked, but seeing as I'm _dead_ and a ghost…"

"You were able to get there. Wonderful," said John. He was not going to deny that he was curious, but then again Moaning Myrtle was insane.

"And guess what I found!" she squealed.

"A puppy?"

"No! It was a box! I tried to go inside, but I couldn't! And-"

"You're a ghost," John finished for her, but he was definitely more interested now.

"Obviously there has to be some charm on the silly thing to keep anyone out, but oh it was so beautiful! It kept groaning and wheezing and making such terrible noises!" She giggled. "It was horrifying!"

"Why are you laughing?"

"Oh, I know you thought it. Everyone has; I'm crazy!"

John stumbled back. Myrtle was spinning and zooming around the whole hallway. John stepped back and once he turned the corner, he bolted away from her. He cursed himself for remaining all that time with her instead of just leaving. But her description of the box she found was causing John to get a headache.

He wanted to mull it over but felt a terrible migraine coming over him. He rubbed his palm gently, he had heard that it could calm you. He walked down the silent halls and left the school building. The air was cool and crisp. John had foolishly decided not to bring a jacket.

Wiping his nose, he did the only thing that felt natural to him: he ran. He ran until he could hear the screams of the crowds. Pausing, he took a deep breath and sprinted the rest of the distance.


	31. The Hidden Room

*** Trying to insert more of Clara's definite bisexuality in this one. I'm very excited for Season 11 of Doctor Who and I'm screaming because I'm not very patient. Enjoy Chapter 31!**

* * *

Clara walked back to the school alongside Ginny. The Second Task had just finished, and Harry had done spectacularly well. To be frank, Clara had thought he was going to drown at the beginning, however, Harry managed to rescue Ron and Fleur's younger sister from underwater. Clara was proud of her friend.

The air was cool and crisp, and Clara's teeth chattered inside her mouth. Ginny seemed to be suffering as well. Perhaps Clara should've paid more attention in Charms class… Warming Charms would be useful at the moment.

"Too bad John missed this," Ginny declared.

Clara narrowed her eyes. She had asked John to accompany her to the task, however, he never showed. "Well, his loss."

"Say, do you now when the next Hogsmeade weekend is?"

Clara rubbed her cracked hands together, "Er, next week? I'm not sure."

"Well, I'm running dangerously low on sweets, and I have been craving chocolate frogs for days now." Ginny's attempt at conversation was rolling downhill.

"Oh, Clara!"

Clara squinted to see John spent his way over in her direction, immediately she crossed her arms. Ginny chuckled quietly.

John halted in front of Ginny and Clara, his brown, curly hair mussed.

"And where have you been?"

"Er, running here?"

"You missed the task!" Clara stated while stomping her foot. Ginny pursed her lips.

"Really? I guess I read the time wrong," said John. "And anyway, I ran into Myrtle while coming here–"

"She's a ghost, why didn't you just leave her?"

Something sparked in John's eye. "She was talking about something she found… It's not my fault I'm curious."

The three started walking. "Well then, what exactly did this just find?"

John stuffed his hands into his pockets. "Well, she said that she found a box–"

"Oh my God," muttered Clara.

"–But she couldn't enter it!"

Ginny frowned. "But she's a ghost."

"I know!" John exclaimed. "Isn't that fascinating?"

Clara bit her lip. It was fascinating but… "John, you promised you would support our friend! He did fantastically!"

"Yes… But this box was able to keep out a ghost! Nothing keeps ghosts out! Except those ghost-capture things they use in Ghostbusters, but that's not the point! That is fiction!"

"You're going on a tangent," Ginny warned.

"Well, if this box is so fascinating, show it to me."

"I can't," said John, "It's in some blocked off part of the castle."

"Then let's find it," Clara pressed. She wasn't going to admit to John that she was really interested in this thing.

Ginny made a timeout sign. "Woah, if you're going, then I'm coming too."

"Of course!"

"No."

Ginny glared at John, her eyes blazed. "And why the hell not?"

"Because it's probably going to be dangerous. Myrtle mentioned that it was making horrifying wheezing and groaning sounds."

"I was possessed by one of the evilest men to have lived, I think I can take sneaking around the school to find a ghost-proof _box_."

"Fine," John relented.

"Okay!" Clara exclaimed, "So, we're going on a field trip! When should we go…?"

"How about tomorrow?" John offered. "I'll ask Myrtle where it is today… And we can go looking tomorrow."

"That sounds fine to me," Ginny said.

"Oh, this is exciting!" Clara said. "Note, John that I am still cross with you, but we haven't done much together as a group!"

"... As a group?" John murmured.

Later that day, John dragged Clara and Ginny out of the Gryffindor common room to search for Myrtle.

"She's probably going to be in her bathroom," said Ginny.

"Let's check there first," Clara agreed.

Clara walked confidently through the halls; she had found that if she looked like she was doing business, students and teachers didn't tend to hassle about with her. They walked through corridors until they finally reached the bathroom. Clara stepped inside, with her two friends following close by.

"Myrtle?" Clara called out. "Are you here?"

"Ghosty-Ghostness from the Girls' Bathroom! Where are you?" John boomed, his voice carried throughout the bathroom.

There was the sound of a flushing toilet and a 'wee!' that echoed throughout the room. Myrtle flew out of a cubicle and into the air. She giggled maniacally.

"Myrtle…" said John slowly, "Do you know where–"

John was cut off because Myrtle let out a loud wail as she zoomed right in front of Ginny's face.

"It's you!"

"Er… What?"

"You were the one who threw that diary at me! Remember? Two years ago?"

Ginny's eyes went wide. "No. That was not me, hehe, you know what they say, all gingers look alike."

"It's true," John inserted, then shook his head, "What we're trying to say is–"

"–Myrtle, we've heard that you can't get into this one box in particular. We want to know where it is, and how to get to it."

Myrtle floated back a bit. "Oh. Well, I found it somewhere in the dungeons. It's blocked off from all connecting corridors, there's a pile of bricks that cover the entrance–"

"To the room where it is? Psh, that's easy!" said John.

"Let me finish!" Myrtle yelled. "Once you get in into that room, there are some traps laid out. I think it's supposed to keep students out," she smiled wickedly, "of course, I floated right through those, but then I got to this closet, of sorts. All dusty, I couldn't breathe," she feigned a high-pitched cough.

"You're a ghost," Clara reminded her.

"I don't need to be reminded of that!" Myrtle shrieked. "But yes, in that closet there was a weird-looking box that just barely fit in that little room. I tried to get in, but every time I tried to float through it would groan and hiss at me. Like it didn't want me in there."

"Well, we're going to go in that weird box and find out what's in there!" John declared.

"Oh, suit yourself, maybe I'll end up with three new forever friends!"She laughed and giggled and streamed passed Ginny, causing her hair to fly. The ghost then flushed herself down a toilet.

The morning had come the next day, and Clara felt her veins buzz with excitement. Of course, by morning she meant around 4 am, but it was nonetheless _exciting_.

She tiptoed to Ginny's bed and tapped her on the shoulder. "Wake up." Ginny groaned. "Wake up!" Clara said with equal volume before, but with more force with her poking. Ginny chuckled.

"I'm coming, I'm coming."

The two girls carefully changed out of their night outfits and into their dark clothing. The then continued out into the hallway that John instructed to meet them at.

"I don't know why he told us to wait here instead of the common room," Clara whispered.

"I think I know why" Ginny replied. Clara looked up to see John walking toward them, but he was not alone. He was joined by a certain blonde friend at his side.

"Luna!" Clara exclaimed happily, though a little confused.

"Hello Clara," Luna said in her normal voice, which was already pretty quiet.

"I thought we should have her join us," said John in a husky whisper.

"Well, she is a Ravenclaw," Ginny pointed.

John nodded. "Okay, headcount–"

"We don't need–"

"Moon, Ginger, Wide-Face, and Doctor Disco are all here, are we missing anybody?"

"First of all, that was the worst headcount ever, second of all, I don not have a wide face!"

"Guys," said Ginny, "Let us get going, or else somebody's probably going to find us!"

Clara suddenly had a brilliant idea. "John! Why don't you use that Invisibility Charm! Remember, from last year?"

John scratched his head. "No… Not really, no." Clara glared at him. "But," he said quickly, "I think I do know this Unnoticeable Charm."

"You think?" Ginny said. But she was too late, John had already started to waved his wand, pointed at her stomach. Suddenly, she wasn't there…

"Oh!" Luna blurted.

"Wow," Clara said, rubbing her eyes. "I know she's there but… Also, I don't really see her…" She suddenly couldn't 'see' John or Luna either. She supposed she was in this state of unnoticed as well now too.

"It'll work better in case we run into Professor Moody," said John. "Just, be quiet and keep to the shadows, okay?"

"You've got it, though just to be clear, I'm the boss," declared Clara.

"Hey! Why can't I be the boss?"

"You're too red-heady," said John.

"Well, it's not like you can see it now, can you?" Ginny quipped.

"Fine, be the boss in name, but I'm–"

"Guys," Clara interrupted, "I know I can't really see her, but I think Luna's heading off to the dungeons without us. Let's _go_."

They all affirmed that they were together and silently made their way down to the dungeons. The windows that were placed high along the walls streamed moonlight into the halls. She could kind-of see Luna's hair reflect the moonlight, and it was beautiful– almost like water. Though, when she looked at Ginny's hair, it looked more like fire. Clara stopped for a second as she realised that if she could see Ginny clearly, her beauty would've caused Clara to completely stop.

Clara continued down to the dungeons, where there were no more windows to let moonlight in (for which she was secretly glad of) and it was all quite dark.

"Follow me," said John.

"You know, I noticed that Myrtle never told us where we need to go," said Clara.

"I got Luna to ask instead, she's better at these things."

"Oh, thank you."

"Now you know how it feels," Ginny said with a quiet laugh. Clara ran that statement over in her head and realised just how left out Ginny must have felt.

They all walked for a long time, a really long time. Until Clara bumped into John's back when he halted at a wall.

"Here," he said.

Clara _Lumos'd_ her wand and brought it up to the site. There was a sort of entrance that was blocked by rubble. There was a sign that read: Danger–– Keep Out.

"Hm, let's go in then," Ginny said.

"Back up," John commanded, and they all obliged. With a wave of his wand, he blew the bricks and rocks out the way. Clara winced at the noise they made.

"I hear something- footsteps!" Luna said.

"Get in!" Clara ordered, and the four of them stumbled their way through the rubble into the room. Clara and John waved their wands to clear the rubble, but nothing happened.

"We both reversed it at the same time!" John hissed.

"Well, sor-ry!"

This time, John alone waved his wand and the tiny boulder plus bricks and dust all rearranged themselves to become the blockade they used to be.

"Sh, everybody remain quiet." They all were silent for a couple minutes.

"Okay…"

They turned around and realised that they were faced with a room was well lit, but there was no light source. A table that had a bunch of circles and lines stood in front of them. Clara gulped, she felt a throbbing in her head, hands, and neck.

"Are you okay?" Ginny asked, her voice now normal.

"Yeah, it's just–cIs this the first puzzle? Because if it is, we are screwed."

John shook his head.

"I think it says something," Luna interrupted. "I don't know what, but they way it is set up makes it look like a language."

Clara waved her wand at the circles and spoke the Translate Charm. Nothing happened.

"Well, I guess it's not a language," Clara sighed.

The charm John used must've worn off because Clara could see Luna's disappointment in her face.

John stroked his hair. "I know what it says."

"So… Is it a language? Why didn't it––"

"Because it's non-translatable," John issued. His face was pale.

"How is that possible?" Ginny asked, then noticed John's strained visage. "Bloody––"

"Don't swear!" John said gruffly.

"Are you alright?" Ginny finished.

"No."

"What does it say?" Luna asked in her light, feathery voice that was still somehow dampened by something. Clara blinked when she stared at the seemingly gold lines and circles.

"It's a warning: If You Fail, Prepare For Your Demise."


	32. Your Demise

***Yes, I know it's been a while since I've updated. I think you all seriously underestimated my skills in procrastination. I'll try to get back into the groove of things, but know: I _will_ finish this story. Thanks for standing by my crazy uploading schedule.**

* * *

" _If you fail, prepare for your demise,"_ John repeated the sentence out loud.

"Well, great!" Clara cried out sarcastically. "Another death adventure! Tell me, why is it that we signed up for this?"

Luna whimpered. "Oh, this is very bad…"

Ginger threw her hands into the air and said something unintelligible. John couldn't really understand what any of them were saying; it all swam by his head in a flurry. He could only stare at the golden circles.

"John? What do we do now?" Clara demanded, pulling John out of his trance.

"I suppose we could leave?" He answered slowly.

Clara shook her head. "We both know you would rather die. So, what do the circles tell us now?"

John rubbed his head and his eyes caught a pile of dust to his right. Luna must've seen it too. She yelped.

They all walked over to the pile of dust, which had little circle adorning the sides of it. However, the most disconcerting part of the whole display was a human skull in the centre of all the white powder.

"Is that real?" Ginger queried with a disgusted look on her face.

John grimaced. "I-I think it is."

"What do the golden things say?" Clara asked quietly.

John re-focused his attention to the text. He shook his head. "This doesn't mean anything!"

"What?" Clara groaned.

"It's talking about a mountain! A mineral mountain, which doesn't make sense because of course a mountain is made of– oh."

"OH, what?" Ginny replied slowly.

"It's not 'mineral' it's 'diamond'!" John said, excitement filling his belly. "This is a puzzle!"

"Okay, though what if we get it wrong?" Clara queried.

John and the others stole a glance at the skull. "Let's not think about that."

"So what's the puzzle?" Luna all but squealed.

"It says: _There lived an emperor once, and he asks this shepherd's boy, "How many seconds in eternity?" And the shepherd's boy says, "There's this mountain of pure diamond. It takes an hour to climb it, and an hour to go around it!. Every hundred years, a little bird comes and sharpens its beak on the diamond mountain. And when the entire mountain is chiselled away, the first second of eternity will have passed!"_

"That literally made no sense," Ginny noted. John glared at her.

"There's a _sort of_ follow up question, it says _write the answer_ ," John continued.

"Oh! So the answer is After-A-Bird-Chisels-It's-Way-Through-A-Bloody-Diamond-Mountain," Clara said monotonously.

"I don't think that's it," John replied.

"Well, what kind of question is that? It just says: write the answer! That's like, some SAT-type question that literally does not have an answer!" Clara snaps.

"Maybe that's it," Ginny interrupts, "No Answer."

"What? That there is no eternity or that one second of eternity cannot occur, or that–" John rambles. At this point, Ginger, Clara and John were in a heated discussion as to what the answer could and could not be.

"I don't think it has to do with the eternity bit, per say," Luna interjects. "What's the answer to the problem at hand? The mountain and the solution is–"

"The bird!" John cries. "Luna I would kiss you except," he stops, "No."

Luna giggles. "Thank you," she says in her feather-light voice.

"So, where are we going to write the answer?" Clara asks.

"I'm assuming, in the sand-dust?" John says.

"Okay, just don't touch _that_ ," Ginger says, her nose wrinkled while she points to the skull.

"Well noted," John replies dryly. He writes in majuscule letters: BIRD." The effect is almost immediate from the moment John pulls his finger away from the dust. The skull disintegrates into the pile of dust. (Ew.) Then, an invisible wind causes the powder to wave along the bottom of the floor until no trace of it was even detectable. They were left with a bunch of golden circles whose text had been ruined by the wind.

Clara looked horrified, Ginger confused, and Luna almost indifferent. Ginger touched her red hair hesitantly. "I swear…" She muttered, "If any of that powder gets in my hair…"

"You shouldn't worry," John assured her, "I think it's all gone."

"How do you know?" Clara asked while shaking her hair.

"A gut feeling."

"So… Was that powder the rest of that skull's erm, body?" Ginger asked while flinching.

"I don't think you want me to answer that," said John.

"You just did," Ginger muttered.

Luna hums. "Well, that was one puzzle down!"

"What?" Clara jumped.

John turned to see a space has magically appeared on a black table in the centre of the new area. "Myrtle did say she saw a series of traps…" John said.

"Oh, God!" Ginger groaned.

The four of them walk over to the new table. It is completely black, with those circles engraved into the stone table. John traced his finger over the circles then immediately pulled his hand away.

"Wow," he said. "I mean, that's not something you come across every day now, is it?"

"What?" Clara asks, she touches her hand against the table and jumps back. Ginger does the same. Luna caresses the table admiringly.

"It feels like water," she says softly.

John trails his fingers along the ultra-smooth surface. "It's a frictionless surface, that's why it's so smooth. This is the type of substance that engineers dream of! Even in simple machines! Imagine a ramp with no added friction! Or a pulley!"

"Yeah, but um isn't this kind of thing supposed to be like, impossible?" Clara asked though she was completely entranced by the table.

"Theoretically, yes," John said, "Bit this isn't the time for this." He shakes his head. "We need to solve the next puzzle."

"Yes," Ginger agreed, "What does it say?"

John squints at the pattern engraved. It was more difficult to determine the phrase, but he thinks he gets it, "It's asking me for the name of planet D5-Gamma-Z-Alpha, and its original, native species."

"What kind of puzzle is that?" Ginger moaned. "And what do they mean ' _species?'_ "

"It's not a puzzle," John answered bluntly. "It's just a question."

"Well, what's the answer?" Clara prods.

"Let me think," John closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. " _D5-Gamma-Z-Alpha, D5-Gamma-Z-Alpha, D5-Gamma-Z-Alpha, D5-Gamma-Z-Alpha, D5-Gamma-Z-Alpha,_ _D5-Gamm_ a— Skaro!"

"What?" Clara asks, her face pale. "What did you say?"

"Skaro is the name of D5-Gamma-Z-Alpha, and the original species is–"

"The Daleks," Clara murmurs.

"What?" Ginger asks incredulously.

John looks down. "No, the Daleks aren't it."

"What?"

"They were originally called the _Kaleds_ before Davros created the Dalek form," John states matter-of-factly.

Ginger looks confused.

"Are you saying that you know of proof that confirms the existence of other creatures… out there?" Luna pointed to the ceiling of the blasted place.

"That doesn't matter!" John snaps, suddenly angry. He turns to the table, "Planet D5-Gamma-Z-Alpha, otherwise known as Skaro; original, native species: Kaleds." His voice shook at the end.

There is a large THUD! Sound from behind them, they all turned to see an empty, grey wall in front of them.

"How did you know that?" Ginger asks him. "All about Skaro, or whatever."

"I have a feeling these questions were directed toward one person–me."

Luna stepped forward, and the wall was suddenly on fire. She shrieked and stepped back quickly. The air changed and John was hit with a burning sensation in his face. John took a moment to assess his surroundings. He looked back, but the table they were working on was gone. Instead, behind them was a wall (around twenty feet away) of dirt with a menacing red ooze dripping down. John turned back and saw a chasm (God knew how deep it was) that was emitting smoke and bubbles of lava. The air was toxic, and John could feel his throat burning. Their previous world had dissolved like dust in milliseconds.

"Good God!" Clara shouted. "Where are we?" Beads of sweat already rolled down her cheeks.

Ginger coughed. "What are we going to do?"

John didn't have a reply except that there was a ball of red-glowing stuff that couldn't be nice hurtling toward them.

"Duck!" He shouted, and the four of them got down on their stomachs and watched as the burning rock hit the jagged wall behind them. Clara screamed and jerked suddenly. She sat up, a tiny piece of rock had touched her leg. A smouldering hole was left in her black pants, that was a definite third-degree burn.

She was cursing like crazy and John could feel the stinging of the very ground he was lying on. Ginger and Luna coughed.

"How are we supposed to get out of this one?" Clara coughed out.

"I-I don't know," said John, but they couldn't hear him from the roaring of the chasm.

Ginger doubled over in a coughing fit. "I can barely breathe!"

Luna was also coughing hysterically. John was rubbing his burning eyes which had spots of red and yellow in his vision.

"We're going to choke to death!" Clara yelled.

Something dawned on John's mind. "I have an idea!"

"Will it get us out of here?" Ginger asked though it wasn't very intelligible.

"John covered his mouth with his arm for a few seconds. "I think so! Though then again…"

"What's the idea?" Clara asked, not even hiding the tears that ran down her cheeks as she clutched her leg and blew air on it.

"You're not going to like it," John said. He doubled over and winced at the burning stings on his pals as his hands touched the ground.

"What is it?" Ginger yelled.

"We jump down into the chasm!" John shouted. They were silent and for five seconds the only sounds in the world were that over their impending, burning doom.

"We what?" Clara shrieked. "And burn to death!"

"I have a," he coughed, "feeling that this is all an illusion!"

"I got a burn on my leg!"

"A very _good_ illusion!"

"No," Ginger said. "I am not going to jump to my death."

"Neither am I," Luna said, her wet eyes reflecting the inferno around them.

"We have to!"

"No, we don't!"

"Eurgh!" John groaned, before coughing maniacally. "Our lungs are filling up with toxins at this very moment!"

"At least we'll live longer!" Ginger shot back.

John tried to stand up, but his legs were like jelly and he collapsed. He attempted to again and stumbled forward to the edge of the chasm.

"What are you doing?" Ginger cried. Her hair was a halo of flames (not really) and she looked like she was ready to murder him.

"I'm going to jump if you don't," John yelled back, coldly, despite the blazing heat of their environment.

He trudged on forward. Then stilled at the feeling of Clara's warm hand in his. She looked at him with eyes that spoke everything: _I trust you_.

Ginger and Luna stumbled their way to them. "What are you _doing?_ " Luna cried softly, repeating what Ginger had said earlier.

"I'm going to follow John because– I trust him with my life. I mean, he could read those circles so I guess–"

"A guess isn't good enough!" Luna said sharply. Perhaps the harshest thing she had ever said.

"Well, it's going to have to be!" John roared. "Now, you're either going to trust me, or waste your precious air with your arguments."

Ginger opened her mouth, then closed it. "If this works, I'm going to kill you. And if it doesn't—" she looked down, "Then I'm going to kill you. But know that I seriously love you guys."

"Same here," Luna said.

"Me too," Clara said quietly while shifting on her good leg. She elbowed John in the side.

"I guess–" his voice cracked, "I lo– You're good friends."

They all held hands and walked to the edge of the chasm. John could feel the heat burn his clothing. His face was on fire, he needed water, his scalp was burning. Hot tears, almost acidic tears trailed down his cheek.

" _1… 2… 3…"_

They jumped into the burning hell.


	33. All Fine

***I listened to an NPR segement about fanfiction on Wednesday. It was kind awkward since I felt like they were calling me out. Oh well.**

* * *

Clara screamed as she felt her body fall and burn. She wasn't sure she had ever felt something so torturous. The second in which she was actually falling felt like eternity. The howls of the chasm around her, she wails of her friends, the burning sensation that caused her to feel tears of astringent liquid roll down her swollen cheeks.

The four of them landed with a _THUD!_ onto a hard ground. Clara attempted to open her eyes, but soon realized that her body needed a recovery period.

"Ow," Ginny moaned.

"That was… Quite a fall..." Luna muttered in a light, yet bitter tone.

Clara attempted to stand up, but her arms failed her and she came crashing to the ground again. She tried again, and when she succeeded into a sitting position, she stared in horror at her blistered red arms.

She coughed, "If that was an illusion, why is that I have the worst burn _ever_?"

John, who's face was also very pink and who's clothing contained several holes, wrinkled his nose. "I-I don't know. But—"

"We're alive," Ginny finished for him, slightly relieved. Then, her face changed into that of rage as she pounced onto John and drew her wand up to his neck.

"Get off me!"

"You nearly got us all killed!"

John struggled but managed to push her off of him. Ginny kept her wand pointed at his face. "I didn't mean to!"

"You were the one who thought that this excursion would be fun!"

" _You_ were the one who insisted on joining!"

Ginny lowered her wand with hesitance. "God, so now what?" She looked expectantly at John. "What do we do? And _where_ are we?"

Clara took a moment to scan her surroundings. She looked at the three walls that were visible to her, as turning her neck to look around stung. They were again in a closed off room with no doors and no puzzles to solve. The walls were and ground were white which caused the stains of blood and soot to appear harsher.

Clara suddenly realized that the room had gone quiet. John, Ginny, and Luna were all staring at the wall behind her. She turned (with great pain) around.

Right on the wall was a crack that expanded the whole width of the wall. There was an ominous white glow that emitted from the crack and Clara swore she had never felt more sick.

"What is that?" Ginny asked, astounded.

"It's beautiful," Luna breathed.

"How is that here?" Clara muttered

Clara never took her eyes off the crack, for fear it would somehow attack her. She did however hear John utter "That's the final puzzle."

"We're fucked!" Clara announced suddenly.

" _Clara!_ " Luna chastised.

"I don't think there has ever been a moment in my life where we have ever been so screwed!" continued Clara.

"No," said John in a shaky voice, "We'll get through this."

"How? We're in a room with a big crack with no way out!"

"We could blast our way out," Ginny noted, twirling her wand. She didn't really ask for permission when she waved her wand and yelled," _Bombarda!"_

The action was useless. The wall remained standing and trapping the four teens.

"Okay…" said Ginny. "What's the puzzle then?"

"I'm not sure…" said John.

"Great," Clara muttered.

"...But I think that we have to enter the crack," John finished.

"What? How would we do that?" Clara asked incredulously.

John cocked his head. "You weren't there, Clara. But a long time ago this was the thing that scared me the most. Walking into it was my worst nightmare. And if you haven't noticed—"

"Most of these 'puzzles' are only solvable by John here," Ginny concluded.

"You're right…" Luna added, "I think John could have done this all by himself."

Clara had the sinking feeling she was right. "So? Do we all walk in? Or only you?" He remained silent. " _John."_

"See, going in there together, there might be something dangerous on the other side. Or, it could close off and leave you all here. I think we already know that these… enigmas are pretty dangerous."

"I think we should go together," Clara stated.

"Yeah, I think I wanna die too," Ginny inserted.

Clara eyed a blister on her hand, "If we go together, John is the only one seemingly able to get us out of the traps."

Luna nodded. "However frightening the problems are, John knows how to get out of them."

"On the other hand," Clara said, "He wants us to walk into a glowing _crack_ in a wall. Mind you, the actual crack seems only to be a centimeter wide."

"Well, guess I'll just die," Ginny announced, shrugging. "But, no, seriously what are we doing?"

"I think we've decided to walk into a glowing crack," said John.

"Okay… But if we end up just bumping our noses against a wall I'm going to be super embarrassed," muttered Clara, and she got up and off her legs. The leg in which she got burned shot a pain up into her thigh. She cursed in her head multiple times and bit her tongue.

They all inhaled deeply and walked toward the radiant white light. It was weird, as they did not bump into a wall, but rather walked through what felt like Jell-O. Clara wasn't sure how they _fit_ , but the tingling sensation around them distracted Clara of her burns.

Clara didn't realize that she had held her breath the whole way until she met a much dimmer light than that of the… _Crack_? It was awkward saying the word over and over again.

The four of them stood crowded, shoulder to shoulder in a small closet with one thing taking up the whole room: a blue, looming box that every five seconds let out groans.

"Police public call box?" Luna said, looking up at the words on the blue box.

"Pull to open," Ginny said. She reached out, and bumped Clara in the cheek with her elbow. "Sorry," Ginny muttered quickly before pulling on the door handle. The door didn't budge.

"Maybe it's push?" Clara offered, for no reason except the fact that if felt _right._

"Clara, it says 'pull' on the damn thing," Ginny argued, but she obliged anyway. Again, the door didn't open. "It needs a key," she noted.

"John?" Clara asked, realizing he was strangely quiet. "What's this puzzle?"

"Hmm? No, this isn' the puzzle, dear Clara. This is the _prize_."

"What?"

"Myrtle said that she couldn't enter a _blue box_. Well, this is it!" He attempted to do jazz hands, but the limited space prohibited him from doing so.

"Okay?"

Luna pulled out her wand after a few moments of wriggling and jiggling. Her turnip earrings swung ever so slightly. She shrugged, "I guess it's worth a shot." She waved her wand (as best she could since they were in a tight space) and pointed it at the keyhole.

"No, I really don't think you should do that—"

" _Alohomora!"_

In an instant, the blue box disintegrated. Literally, turned to bits of dust that disappeared into the air. Clara realized that they were now in a closet, but no more box occupied it. She was now able to turn around, and open the closet door to escape. The four of them came face-to-face with the same room as they did at the very beginning, except with no trace of a lava chasm, any golden rings, or blinding cracks in walls. What stood in front of them was a dusty, old room that had a pile of rocks blocking its entrance.

John groaned. Luna gave a meek apology while Ginny skipped across the room, throwing in a few ballet moves in for good measure.

"While I'm pretty pissed that we went through all that, and then having our prize turn into thin air, I'm pretty damn happy to finally be in a place that," she paused, "looks like an abandoned classroom." She frowned, "Unless, shit, is this another puzzle?"

"No," John said gruffly. "It is not because the T–" he shook his head, "the box is what created those traps. It's why it was making all those noises. Imagine all that energy being used…" He added in a faint whisper, "Just to get to me."

"But, what does this mean now?" Clara asked.

John shook himself. "We leave, go to the Hospital Wing, eat ice cream."

"And forget all this?" Clara said sharply.

"You can if you want. I know I do," John quipped.

"He has a point," Ginny replied, stretching. "I just want to sleep." She paled considerably. "Okay, what am I going to say if I walk into the common room and my brothers see me like this?" She gestured toward her burned black outfit and skin that was screaming red and speckled with blisters that were, to put it _lightly_ , hideous.

John scoffed, "Easy, go to the Hospital Wing to get it all fixed."

"And what will Madame Pomfrey ask? She'll probably tell McGonagall, who will tell my parents, who will rush over here and murder you."

"Madame Pomfrey doesn't ask questions," John said. "Remember when Hermione turned into a _cat_?"

"What?" Ginny asked.

"Oh! I wish I were a cat!" Luna exclaimed at the very same moment.

"Okay, let's rush over to Pomfrey first. And make up a story about setting off fireworks," Clara surmised.

"Ah, yes, and get detention for a week."

Luna jumped up and down excitedly. "I think I may have a solution. Or at least a partial one!"

"What?" Ginny said, now in a much lighter tone than earlier.

"Well, my mum was always working on different potions and spells. And well, although things didn't end well, she did teach me how to treat _some_ burns."

"Why didn't we use that earlier?" John shouted into the air.

Luna said something that sounded like "immature lines" though Clara knew it was probably some super-cool spell that would heal her screaming limbs. After a few seconds, Clara realized that her arms were still in terrible pain, however instead of being covered in blisters and red, her flesh was slightly tanned. Her leg, however still had a throbbing, red welt.

"What time is it?" Ginny asked.

"Around 7:32 AM," said John.

"How—?"

"I'm pretty good with time."

They sneaked around the castle once more, with much more cautious this time at light streamed through the windows. After dropping Luna off outside the Ravenclaw common room door, they made their way back to the Gryffindor common room.

As they entered through the portrait hole, Clara heard faint whispers.

She was greeted by a sight of Ron, Harry, and Hermione with their heads together, mumbling. Ron looked up and narrowed his eyes at his sister. Clara felt John begin to inch away.

"Good morning!" Ginny said brightly.

"Er…" Harry said.

"What are you doing up so early?" Hermione asked. "It's like, 7:45."

"What's up with your skin?" Ron asked, confused.

Clara and Ginny looked at each other in panic. Ginny didn't have any blisters anymore, her face was only pinkish. Ginny nodded to Clara saying that she looked fine too.

"What happened to your clothes?" Hermione demanded. "And what is that smell?"

"We were just working with fireworks," Clara mused.

"At 7:45 in the morning?" Hermione repeated, her brow arched.

"Obviously we didn't want to get caught by teachers," Clara laughed.

"You're very tan, Clara," Harry noted.

"Part of the job," Clara continued.

Ginny walked off into the direction of the girls' dorms. "Well, I'll be off to shower and change, lovely morning you guys!" John did a sort of salute and walked to the boys' dorms.

Clara nodded slowly. "Yeah, I'm just gonna go…" She walked off.

"Clara?" Hermione called. Clara turned around.

"Did you burn your leg?"

Clara looked down at the angry red swell on her leg. "A little bit. Don't worry, I'm fine. We're all fine."


	34. Midnight Hat-Talking

***Okay, so I apologise for my really long hiatus, I don't really have an excuse except for school? :/ But, today is Canada's 150 and the final episode of this Doctor Who season comes out today (which I can't watch cuz Imma watch the fireworks) not to mention that fact that Harry Potter's 20th anniversary was just days ago. Anyway, I promise that my updates will become more regular, and I will finish this story. Thanks so much for your patience!**

* * *

John tossed and turned in his bed. He usually never slept in these beds anyway, but tonight was particularly rough; he found that no book was able to ease his anxiety. This was the 29th night in a row. Images kept flashing through his head: the hellish inferno; golden lines and circles, the blue box disintegrating into the air. He couldn't sleep, he barely had an appetite, John had skipped most of his classes and the ones he did attend– usually cost him detention. But at least organizing books and writing a 36-inch essay were things that kept you occupied.

A familiar lump was rising in his throat, the one you felt when utter dread arrived. His stomach fell, and for one moment John could've sworn he was flying. It was a horrifying experience. Gasping, John threw the sheets onto the floor, causing cool air to attack his moist, sweaty skin. He was wearing a white t-shirt and his uniform pants, which probably added to the heat, but it wasn't even that warm! It was turning to late Spring, but the weather was still up-and-down.

John twisted, and let his bare feet touch the cool, stone floor. He shivered but stood up. He suffered a few seconds of head-rush but manages to get down the stairs to the common room, and out the portrait hole. The Fat Lady barely even seemed to notice him, only mumbled quietly.

John wasn't really sure where he was going, so he let the endless maze of corridors and halls guide him deeper into the school. Sometimes, he ran his fingers along the stone walls, marvelling at just how quiet it was. John halted.

In front of him, stood the infamous door to Dumbledore's office. John stared awkwardly at it but finally decided that entering wouldn't do any harm. John didn't have his wand, but it didn't really matter anyways. He was becoming worse and worse at magic.

John racked his brain, flipping through files and photos of his past to uncover what Harry had said of the password two years prior. Finally, he got it.

"Lemondrops" he whispered into the cool air.

Somehow, despite John's hushed tone, the Gryphon-Door (haha) opened and permitted John to enter. John stepped forward into the office. As expected, it was empty, and no lights were presently turned on, except for the torch that just lit up when John moved forward, and the another one, and the other one… John looked at Dumbledore's desk but was rather more attracted to a sleeping Phoenix. _Fawkes_ , John realised. On a pedestal on a shelf, sat the Sorting Hat. John uttered some unkind words under his breath toward the talking accessory.

"What was that?" The hat demanded.

John, caught in surprise, stepped back. "What?"

"Hey- who's there, oh," the hat said. "It's you. Hm, John Smith is it? That's a terrible name you chose. I haven't encountered a John Smith since…"

"Not that I don't care," John snapped, "But I don't care."

"Then why are you waking the whole castle up?" the hat hissed.

"You're a hat! Hats don't sleep!"

"Boy, I think I've proven myself to be a lot more than a silly hat! I sorted you into Gryffindor! Why I heard you're friends with Harry Potter!"

John huffed. "Well, putting me into Gryffindor didn't do anything. I don't _belong_ there. Those kids are just loud, obnoxious, and constantly in need of attention."

"Then I put you in just the right place then, good night!"

"No!" John said sharply, causing the Sorting Hat to unfurl its tip. "I should be in someplace like Slytherin! Inside, I know I belong there too… And I know you knew that too when I first came here…"

The Sorting Hat sighed, "I put you in Gryffindor because that's where you needed to go, my boy. Plain and simple. Tell me, what was the Order you belonged to in the Academy?"

"Um, what?"

"Prydonian, wasn't it? Yes, I saw that in you rather large head of yours. The sneaky ones eh? The cunning ones who slinked their way out of situations and had all the power at their disposal."

"I'm 14!"

The hat _laughed_. "Yes, yes, well I could see a little into that blocked head of yours– and I saw that you are scared."

"Shut up."

"Scared of making the wrong choice, of losing the people you love, of failing, of dying. Granted, those are the fears that define many of the houses," the hat chuckled again. "It was difficult to sort you into a house," Sorty admitted, (John had nicknamed the house .5 seconds prior) "You would have thrived in any of them. Of course, that is the case with every student."

"Are you saying the house system is a lie?"

"No, no, no. Having each house is _necessary_. We learn things. Mr Smith, if I may call you by your alias, I sorted you into Gryffindor because you are under the impression that you are not brave. I have seen some of your deeds from the past and can tell you that you are one of the bravest men to have walked this earth. Do you know why? Because admitting your cowardice and using it to save others is true courage and might."

John scoffed, "I already know I'm a coward. And if you're saying you deliberately put me in this place to make me learn some moral lesson–"

"Did you not hear me?" Sorty snapped, "That's how I sort everyone!"

"Really? Because what about that _snake_ in the _snake_ house? Draco Malfoy? The hat was on his head for a maximum of .67 seconds!"

"Draco Malfoy was the biggest coward I have ever sat upon. Being in Slytherin ensured that his cowardice would be put to good use. Sorting him into any other house would have taught him nothing except that the Gryffindors are obnoxious, the Hufflepuffs are timid, and the Ravenclaws are a prude. That would only reinforce the lingering stereotypes."

"Don't you think that putting anybody in Slytherin reinforces those stereotypes?"

"Mr Smith! You were placed in the Prydonian Order because of your cowardice, but sneakiness. Those are the pros and cons of that order, as they are of Slytherin. The Slytherin House does not necessarily reinforce those sneaky stereotypes, but rather causes your courage to evolve. You being a coward now becomes a weapon. The same goes for any house. They have their bad and good, but at the end of the day the lesson you take away from being in that house is taking that bad and using it as a _tool_."

"Okay?" John exhaled. This really didn't explain anything to him, but rather confused him even more. He didn't agree with what the old hat had to say. He remembered something, "You said you could see past my mental block."

Sorty hummed, "A little bit."

"When was I in the Prydonian Order?"

"Long ago. I'm not really sure _what_ it is exactly, but I know that you were there. I didn't have enough time to delve deeper into that complicated head of yours."

"What about now? If I put you on, can you unlock those memories?" John's heart was pounding.

"Perhaps, but I am a Sorting Hat, my job is to place you into a house, not to complete some petty job of yours!" the hat shook its point tip.

"Please!" John begged, "This is important! If you say that I have blocked memories, and I _feel_ like I can't remember something–"

"Then you should probably go to the hospital wing. I'm sure Madam Pomfrey would be willing to help," Sorty said stiffly.

"But I already know that you can help me right now. Madam Pomfrey isn't going to probe my head!"

"Well, neither am I!"

"That's it!" John pulled a stool over, and reached up to the shelf for the hat was placed on. He just about had the damn hat in his fingers when–

"You know, it's quite rude to enter into someone's office without letting them know first."

John let go of the hat and turned around. Dumbledore stood a few feet away from him with a smile on his face (why?) and his half-moon glasses perched on his nose. John jumped down from the stool.

"I'd apologise but your stupid hat is being… _stupid_."

Dumbledore chuckled. "The Sorting Hat is known to be difficult, though anything would be if you woke them in the middle of the night."

"Hey," John said defensively, "I was just exploring."

"No harm in that, just keep away from the 3rd floor," Dumbledore winked. "I don't think we've cleaned that one out yet."

"Well, I think you should change your password for this room," John stated.

"Lemon drops are my favourite candy! But, perhaps you are right… I've been meaning to do so for a while now, but… What if a young pupil wandered here like you? Seeking help?"

"You turn them away because you're the headmaster of the school, not a psychiatrist. Also, you might want to open a position for that. Typically the caretaker has that job, but Mr Filch isn't very much help at all." John sighed loudly.

"Then how can I be of assistance," Dumbledore asked kindly.

"Get the stun- er hat down for me."

"Why on earth would I do that?"

" _Sorty_ here said that it might be able to look into my blocked memories," John said with a distasteful glance at the hat.

"Hmm, blocked memories. Perhaps a peer confounded you? Or obviated you? They're very sophisticated spells yes but…"

"Apparently I've had some memory issues before I even came to Hogwarts," John said flatly. "I'm not sure how, though. Maybe I hit my head? I'm not sure, I used to take some sleeping meds in my 1st year… Stopped though because I found that I would remember certain things better without them."

"Do you have the pills now?"

"No, got rid of them ages ago."

"I could try the mental infiltration… It is very dangerous, however, you seem very keen on getting your memory back."

"Okay Gandalf, are we going to be trying to do some Vulcan mind-melding because even I know that that is some next-level sh–"

"I have no idea what you just said," Dumbledore interrupted, "but consider it a mind-meld. I'll have to ask you parents of course."

"Well then, guess my time here is done," John turned on his heel, brushed past the headmaster and head toward the exit.

"Mr Smith!" Dumbledore called, "I must confess that I overheard a bit of your conversation!"

John kept walking.

"From what I can tell, if this mind-blockage is real, then I may be able to assist you, provided you tell _no one._ "

John paused but did not turn around.

"You have intrigued me, Mr John Smith, and I have a feeling that isn't your real name. We'll find out, I promise you that, but wait a bit until the Tournament is over. And, get some sleep, boy. Good night."

John shrugged and walked out of the office with a fluttering in his stomach and a stolen yellow candy in his palm.


	35. John's Predicament

***Happy August! So much has happened in a month, huh? I mean I _have_ to give congrats to Jodie Whittaker as being the new Doctor! I am so excited! This chapter was meant for HP's birthday yesterday (and J.K. Rowling's too) but I didn't have time to post it, so here it is! **

**I hope your summer has been fun, I know that some people start school in a couple of weeks, so good luck to you. I know that the total solar eclipse will be visible in some parts of the States, and I'm sad because I live in Canada so... Anyway, I hope you enjoy that chapter, and I know that nobody reads AN's anyway...**

* * *

Clara and Ginny sat quietly next to each other, scribbling quick notes about this charm and that. Easter was coming up, and so were tests and a pile of homework to accompany. Clara picked a piece of chocolate off of an enormous chocolate Easter egg Mrs. Weasley had kindly sent to her. One thing Clara loved the magical world was just how tasty their chocolate was.

"I feel bad for Hermione," Ginny sighed, putting her quill down. "I mean, have you seen the hate mail she's been getting these past few weeks?"

Ginny was probably referring to the fact that ever since Rita Skeeter's _Witch Weekly_ article about Hermione and her so-called "relationship" with Harry, people had been sending her Howlers, poisoned letters, and nasty notes. Mrs. Weasley must have read the article as well, for she had only sent Hermione a small chocolate egg.

"It's awful," Clara agreed, "Especially since it's painfully obvious that she and Ron belong together."

"Ew Clara, don't make me think of my baby brother like that."

"He's older than you Ginny."

"Yeah, but ten years dumber."

Clara and Ginny chuckled and decided to rest for a bit from their homework. Ginny glanced down at Clara's leg. "Is it feeling better?"

None of them had really talked about what occurred in that… simulation. John, the least. There was a burn on Clara's leg that had left a red scar after a few weeks. She was wearing her uniform pants more often too.

"It's fine now, I guess," she said while subconsciously rubbing her leg. "But I'm not going to lie, that was a scary experience. I guess we should've known it wasn't real but… it still hurt, _obviously_ ," Clara patted her leg. "But I'm more worried about John. He seems off…"

Ginny grimaced, "You're right. I haven't had a proper conversation with him in weeks. Schools going to be over in a couple months… I want to spend it with my friends."

"Yeah, but you saw how the thing affected him. John has always been… unique and extraordinary but he just seems sad now. He has been, since like Christmas."

"What?" Ginny asked.

Clara shrugged. "I don't know, he left during the Yule Ball, and when I found him he was really upset." She didn't mention that she had found John silently crying, or rather John had found her with Harry– she wasn't going to mention that either.

"Do you know why?"

"He mentioned something about like, repressed memories. Like he was forgetting something or maybe someone really important," she paused. "I'm not sure, but that whole thing where we found the blue box really affected him. He barely talks to me anymore, he doesn't do his school work, and he's so wound up in his own world!"

"We should tell Madam Pomfrey," Ginny said, worried.

"I kinda want to… but I feel as though it's wrong! John did say he was fine… And well, if what he says is true about the repressed memories…"

"... We should tell a teacher about it?" Ginny finished.

"No! Yes? I don't know," Clara slumped. "But somehow, seeing what he saw triggered him in some sort. I think that whatever he's got repressed in that brain of his is coming back. I'm worried though."

"But if he gets these 'memories' back, isn't that good?" Ginny asked while toying with a quill in her hand.

Clara shrugged. "Some people forget things because they're too horrible to remember. That's why I'm so worried. What if he remembers something horrible and is never the same again?"

"We'll be there for him," Ginny assured Clara. "We're his friends, you and John are the ultimate companions. And with a redhead like me," she stroked her hair, "there is nothing we can't figure out."

* * *

One week passed, Clara and Ginny plopped their bags on either side of John as usual and stared at him expectantly. Silence.

Clara prodded his shoulder, "John?" He was reading a book, _again_.

"Mhmm?"

"Ginny and I are here…"

"Hello."

Ginny sighed and punched him forcefully on his right arm, causing him to wince. "Okay, you have been down in the dumps for weeks now and I for one, will _not_ tolerate it."

"I'm at school, that is a logical reason to be 'down in the dumps.' Besides, I love reading." John never tore his eyes away from his book.

"Come on, you can't just read all day! Granted, it's probably good for your marks but you need to be social," Clara urged.

John's eyes widened. "You're right, I can't spend all day reading."

Clara smiled, "See? I knew you'd come around– oh."

John flipped through every single page, and in an instant, he placed the book down. "There, now to apply my new knowledge into the real world. Has anyone got a dragon?"

"Hold on _Daenerys_ , you did not just finish that book!" Clara declared, astounded.

"I did, now will you leave me alone? I've got some experiments to finish."

"Why don't we help you with one of these experiments?" Ginny interjected. "As long as there are no dragons, of course."

"I'm afraid your human mind would not be able to handle the complexity of what I will be attempting to accomplish…"

"Hey!" Clara whined, somewhat insulted. " _Human minds_? My Terran brain can handle anything and everything your space-head throws at me!"

"My space-head?" Ginny laughed at John's reaction.

The redhead ruffled John's hair. "Oh, come on. You've gotta admit, you're a bit… alien. I think it's the Scottish bit of you."

"Oh oh, you've got a Scottish accent and suddenly everyone's a critic!" John exclaimed.

Clara and Ginny burst into laughter. "It's nice to have you back," Clara stated.

"What do you mean…?"

Ginny shrugged, "You've just been so down lately, we thought it might have had something to do with our little _adventure_ in the dungeon. We're just glad to have our dweeb friend back."

He sniffled slightly, "Our _adventure_ affected me in no manner. I'm perfectly fine, just often preoccupied with matters of a higher caliber than you would even begin to fathom."

Clara felt the urge to ask what she had been wondering for awhile now. "And what about the… memories?"

"What?" He glanced at Ginny. "Does Ginger know?"

"Of course I know! Clara wouldn't keep something so big and important like this away from me!" Ginny declared. Clara smiled weakly.

"Well at least I now know why Clara's hair isn't big," John muttered. Clara rolled her eyes.

"So? Have you figured anything out?" She asked.

John sucked a breath. "No. I don't think heading to Madam Pomfrey's is a good idea either… I have a feeling this isn't magic I'm dealing with."

"Then what could make you lose that much memory and affect you like this?" Ginny asked. "I mean, from what Clara told me… You have flashbacks and slip into daydreams and trances. When you were in our year before you skipped… Clara mentioned you would sometimes mention things like you were _hypnotized_."

"I still have those moments, but there are certain triggers…"

Clara straightened, immediately worried. "What kind of triggers?"

"When we were in the dungeon… and you saw those gold circles?" Clara and Ginny nodded. "Well," continued John, "reading that language sort of made me have these flashbacks… I tried looking in the library for such a language, but nothing came up. Nada."

Clara tapped her fingers against the table. "Maybe you could ask the ancient runes professor?"

"I doubt that anyone will know the language. It's untranslatable," John replied matter-of-factly.

Ginny and Clara jumped, and John's eyes widened. "Oh," Clara said. "Did you just–"

"Yeah, I think I did."

"You remembered something?" Ginny said anxiously.

"Nothing much… just that midget fact…"

"You just told us a language is untranslatable! Is that even possible?" Clara exclaimed.

"You know when I signed up for Hogwarts, this wasn't what I was expecting of my education," Ginny sighed.

Clara felt her insides glowing, her excitement was rising as well. "This is fantastic! I mean, if we keep presenting these triggers to John maybe he'll remember more and we can figure out what's happening!"

John looked at Cara closely. "Don't you remember what I said on Christmas?" Clara felt a shudder run down her spine. " _Have you seen things? Things you couldn't explain?"_

"I think there is the reason why we were both impacted that night, on Christmas" John began.

"No…" Clara would not accept it.

"What?" Ginny stared at Clara like she was from another planet. "Do you mean..?"

"I think Clara has the exact same condition as I do."


	36. Interruptions

**Yes, yes, hello? Mhmhmm I was born in procrastination nation.**

* * *

" _I think Clara has the exact same condition as I do."_

Through all the noise and flashing lights of the Great Hall, John saw the light dim in Clara's eyes, her shoulders slumped and for one moment he saw her whole demeanor fade. It was… heartbreaking. Ginger stared wide-eyed at Clara.

"Wha-? Did you know? How could you not tell me? I have so many questions!"

"I–," Clara started, then faltered because of the shock.

"If Clara does suffer from what I may have," John began "She may not have realized it like I did. It took Clara to tell me that something was off for me to even _begin_ thinking that something was seriously wrong."

"Well, what do we do then? If the both of you have it, maybe you got it from Hogwarts. You all have seemingly normal lives outside of school–"

"No," Clara spoke, "well at least I don't."

"What?"

John caught on. "Clara's right, I have a feeling this isn't directly caused by us attending Hogwarts, every time summer rolled around–"

"It didn't," finished Clara.

Ginger shook her head, "This doesn't make sense."

Clara shifted uncomfortably. "Whenever I left the train and walked onto the King's Cross-platform… It was like tie just didn't mean anything. Everything just sort up sped up… Except for this year."

John nodded, "You're right, this year I lived in a shack, you know besides the impossible time-speeding-up thing that had occurred."

"Hold up. _You lived in a shack?_ "

"Yeah," John admitted though not the least bit embarrassed. "I had tickets to the _Quidditch World Cup_ given to me by…" John felt his stomach sink.

"Who gave you the tickets, John?" Clara asked firmly.

"You said your dad gave them to you…. You lied," Ginger said quietly. "Why would you lie?"  
"Because up until Hogwarts I had no father," John remembered suddenly. "The tickets just appeared, taking me to the special seating, coincidentally next to… _you_."

Ginger looked offended. "Are you saying that this is my fault?"

"No!" Clara exclaimed the gears were obviously turning in her head. "I think I understand what John is saying. We were always sort of pushed, er encouraged to be at Hogwarts, or at least with fellow students like you. It can't be a coincidence that we all had the same seating? I mean come on! Some sort of exterior force is influencing our world!"

John snapped his fingers. "Oh, yes! Yes, yes, Clara Oswald! That makes sense!" He frowned profusely, "But who wants us to be together?" There was something important John was missing. Instantly, his mind was at work 1000 miles a second attempting to solve the puzzle, however, the mental block Sorty had mentioned must have affected his thinking and problem-solving skills because he was usually much faster at coming to conclusions, whether they be right or wrong. (They were usually right.)

Slowly, realization dawned on John. "I don't think this exterior force is trying to get me to Hogwarts, it's trying to get me to _you_ , Clara." He stared at her brown eyes for a time that even for him was uncomfortable. "Listen, we became friends almost instantaneously, remember? Our first day during the Sorting."

Ginger was picking up on it too. "That's right! But that doesn't explain your genius that got you separated _during_ school."

Clara bit her lip, "If some external force were trying to get us in together why would it allow you being transferred to the 2nd year when you were in our 1st? Wait, who decided to bump you up."

"It was hinted to me that Snape asked for it, though I'm sure he regrets it now. I used to be top of the class in my first few weeks. I knew everything and anything Snape threw at me, my potions were perfect, even when the recipes were incorrect."

"Snape?" Ginger echoed. "Bloody Snape? But why? This makes even less sense!" Her warm brown eyes were narrowed, creases had formed on her forehead.

Something about all this was very disturbing, and John felt a headache coming on, he rubbed his temples. "I don't know why Snape would do it, but the point is he did. Now, what are we going to do about it?"

"I don't know about you but I do not want to talk to that slimy git!" Clara snapped. She was looking very frustrated. "This is stupid! What if we're just overreacting, huh? Maybe John really is a genius that moved up to 2nd year-"

"Yeah but Clara," Ginger uninterrupted, "that like, never happens."

"-Okay but you know what also doesn't happen? Missing memories and new ones that just suddenly reappear in your head that drive you absolutely mad! I never wanted this, I just want to go to school."

"Clara if you haven't noticed," John quipped in a condescending tone, "we are in a _magic school._ Anything can happen! Maybe you're right, maybe this is just some shockwave of the obvious drama that has endured ever since Potter has arrived, but I don't think it is."

Clara opened her mouth then closed it shut, she was speechless.

In the corner of his, John caught Ginger play with her flaming red hair nervously. She was fixated on a knot and began pulling strand, not quite meeting their eyes when she spoke. "We have to do something," she murmured. "I don't want my friend to be like this!" Her voice hardened. "We need a plan. Clara, John, write everything you remember on some parchment. Maybe things will start coming back… I read somewhere that blue ink is the best for remembering things, granted this isn't a test but…"

John fished around in his pockets, and pulled out a blue Muggle pen, and clicked it. Ginger smiled fondly.

"Dad has some of those but he never lets me touch them." She proceeded to pull out a roll of parchment. With her own quill, she wrote in quick lettering: _Memories_

Of course, right when they were getting down to business was when Granger decided to barge into the conversation. Ginger hastily stuffed the parchment in her bag.

"Hello," said Hermione politely, which irked John. "I came over because you guys look stressed. Has third year gotten to you?" She asked Ginger and Clara.

"Guess so," Clara said nervously.

"Oh, don't worry, you guys are all very smart," Hermione again directed it to Ginger and Clara, but John smiled at her with a sly grin.

'Really? Thank you! At least someone here appreciated my higher-order thinking!"

"If by higher-order you mean ink stains on your pants, then yes." John looked down and realized that she was in fact, correct and that one of his other pens in his pockets had leaked. Hermione continued, "Seeing as you're so clever I'll be assuming you won't need my assistance in getting the stain _out_."

Truth be told, John didn't really care about the stain except for the fact that McGonagall would probably yell at him for ruining yet _another_ pair of pants. (It wasn't _his_ fault yesterday when they caught aflame, he was sitting close to Seamus.)

"So," Granger mused, "What are you having trouble with? I'd be happy to help. If any of you are taking Ancient Runes, I know that class was a bit of a struggle."

"That was because you kept messing about with time!" John quipped.

"Hey!" Granger hit the back on his head firmly, but not enough to hurt John. "McGonagall said we weren't allowed to talk about it!"

Ginger looked amused but confused as well. "Am I correct when I assume that John and Hermione time-travelled last year?"

"Oh yeah," Clara laughed, "Though John totally started failing his classes and was forced to stop. Though, I wouldn't be surprised if he also ripped a hole in the Fabric of Reality while tripping his way to Charms."

John crossed his arms. "That hurts," he pouted and placed a hand on his heart, "right here."

"Maybe you shouldn't have time-travelled then!" Ginger accused. Hermione looked positively enraged.

"Well John, I should've known you'd tell someone. Though I'm going to trust that you won't say it again. Oh, whatever, I can just charm you myself," she reached into the sleeves of her robes.

John raised his hands up immediately. He wasn't stupid enough to mess with Granger when she was angry. She was annoying, yes, but even John admitted that she was damn good at magic. She could hex his toe off and he wouldn't notice until next Sunday!

"Now, Listen," John replied sternly to Hermione's wand, which she lowered when she saw John's surrender. "I only told Clara because she already kinda knew, remember? And _you_ basically told Ginger now!"

Hermione blushed, and in an attempt to change the subject she cleared her throat haughtily. "Well, what were you guys working on before I interrupted? I would certainly be willing to help with it."

The three of them became very still.

"No," Clara said with a chuckle. "We're fine…"

Hermione looked disappointed, but let flashed a toothy smile anyway. "Oh, well, I'm sure you're a very bright bunch and don't need me!"

"No, we don't," John assured her.

" _John_!" Clara groaned.

"Should you ever need help you lot, just ask me and a study trip to Hogsmeade can be arranged," Hermione said with a smile. "I'll let you guys finish your work." With that, she straightened herself and walked away, her bushy hair following her.

"That was close," Clara breathed once in the all clear.

"It was, we need to be more careful," John stated. "Though, Granger has given me some ideas on how to continues…"

Ginger raised an eyebrow. "Oh really?"

"But first, we need to do something very important."

"What?" Clara asked, almost worried.

"Can we do that thing people do in films where they stick their heads together and devise a super cool plan to save the world?"

With a smile, Ginger replied, "I don't quite understand that sentence, but yes."


End file.
